Enjoy The Descent Into Hell

The shitposts you know and love now with added angst! (main blog: @petrichormeraki)

[arts-and-drafts]

Doing Good Guy Things (Chapter One)

AO3 LINK

Summary: In which after years of effort, Jimmy is finally ready to debut to the city as Good Guy, Essempy's newest hero. His first encounter with villains is a big one, and the rookie hero begins to doubt the world he has been surrounded in during his hero training...are the bad guys really the bad ones, or is this city built on much different truths than he'd been told?

(WOOOO NEW FIC!!! God forbid I stay on track with only one at a time. I've been working on this one for AGES, it's gonna be another big boy!! I hope you enjoy!!)

CWs: Slight violence

-

Jimmy had finally made it.

He beamed at his vanity mirror. His reflection—no, what looked back at him was Good Guy's reflection, his eyes hidden behind an enchanted red mask and his body adorned with a red and blue skin-tight suit, his chest proudly emblazoned with 'GG' stitched in gold.

It was fancy, it was a dream, and it was perfect. Jimmy almost wept at the sight. He had worked tirelessly for years to get here, and finally graduated with his Hero License last week. Today would be the very first day Jimmy Solidarity would take to the city streets as Good Guy, Essempy’s newest hero.

Sure, he would be paired up with two senior heroes for his first week out to make sure he'd be able to handle himself, but in his eyes, he'd already made it.

Jimmy straightened his posture in the mirror and tried to dampen his smile for a more professional look. It didn't really come across as the cool, stoic hero that he'd been going for, but he shrugged and let his smile overtake his expression again. 

Today was too big to hide his excitement. 

Without another second of waiting, Jimmy pulled himself away from his vanity and strode out the door of his dorm into the rest of HQ.

Immediately, he encountered one of his fellow graduates, a thorn in his side since day one. Jimmy’s happiness dampened briefly at the sight of Joel, but he quickly shook it off and tried to head on his way.

As expected, Joel stopped him as soon as he saw him. 

"Hey, it's Good Guy!" Joel jeered, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. When Jimmy had submitted his hero name that first day of class, Joel had been the one that poorly hid a laugh.

Whatever. In Jimmy's opinion, 'Stormbreaker' was an infinitely worse hero name, and he took care to let Joel know as such, in retort. 

And so began their rivalry throughout the entirety of their time earning their Hero Licenses, which…mostly consisted of Jimmy getting dunked on by Joel.

Today, though, Jimmy refused to let Joel get to him.

"That it is, Thunder Boy!" Jimmy grinned and saluted as he waltzed past, snickering at the gobsmacked look on Joel's face. He'd been saving that nickname for a while since he thought of it, and it turned out exactly as he hoped it would.

Before Joel could regain his wits and retaliate, Jimmy hurried off to the deployment wing to meet with his mentors.

The deployment wing was more akin to an airplane hangar, with large openings on the left and right sides of the massive room. Heroes milled about in groups, discussing their missions around Essempy that were assigned by management.

Jimmy had passed through the deployment wing many times in his years earning his license, always wistfully watching as the heroes received their missions and headed out to protect the city.

Today, he would finally be among them. Jimmy would've squealed and danced if he’d had a tad less self control.

Jimmy proudly stepped foot in the deployment wing, and promptly tripped over his own feet.

Before he could react, somebody caught his arm, and he had a moment of wrestling with inertia while attempting to right himself. He looked up to see the face of senior hero Goldeneye.

"Thanks," Jimmy squeaked out, blinking rapidly. He was in the presence of Goldeneye, face to face for the first time.

"No problem." She smiled at him, and Jimmy got the impression that her gaze was warm behind her tinted goggles. "Figured you wouldn't want your first moment as a graduate hero to be on your face."

It was then Jimmy noticed the faint yellow glow around the hero like an aura, and red-hot embarrassment flooded through him. "I fell, didn't I?"

Goldeneye laughed, not unkindly. "Yeah. But I'm the only one that saw." She assured, tapping her wristwatch.

Jimmy didn't say that he'd still have rather been thrown off the roof than have one of the coolest heroes ever see him fall in his face, and instead tried for a smile. "Uh, good. Yes. Thank you, again."

"Don't mention it!" Goldeneye said, and released his arm. "I believe you're following Freeza and Guardian today, by the way." She informed him, and gestured to the information desks in the center of the room.

Jimmy immediately spotted the two cool-color clad heroes chatting with each other animatedly by one of the deployment balconies. Freeza held a stack of papers in one of his mittens, and a thrill of excitement shot through Jimmy.

"Thank you!" Jimmy turned to Goldeneye and waved, already running towards his mentors.

"Good luck, rookie!" Goldeneye replied, reciprocating his wave with a smile.

Jimmy skidded to a halt in front of his new mentors, the both of them pausing their conversation as they noticed him approaching, and then smiled at him when they recognized his suit. Freeza’s face was hidden by a scarf covering all but his eyes, and Guardian had a similar mask to Jimmy, only accented in green, over his eyes to keep his identity hidden.

"Good Guy! Glad you could make it!" Freeza greeted, holding out his free hand. Jimmy enthusiastically took it, but then yelped when Freeza's hand suddenly became so cold that it burned through Jimmy's gloves.

Jimmy instinctively snatched his hand away. Freeza was already doubled over by the time Jimmy broke contact, the blue-clad hero’s laughter echoed by Guardian's giggling.

"Oh man, you got him good!" Guardian cackled, clapping Jimmy on the back so suddenly that he flinched. "Welcome to the team, Good Guy! It's tradition to do a little hazing, you understand."

In all honesty, Jimmy really didn't understand. His arm was still residually aching as it warmed back up again. His ears were burning with embarrassment, and something like the annoyance he always felt when Joel picked on him was welling up in his chest, but he tried to push it away to smile back. "Uh, yeah! Thank you?"

"More like thank you,” Freeza replied, shaking the papers in his mittened hand with a pleased look in his eyes. "Since we're mentoring you this week, we were given a lot of interesting missions to take you on!"

"Oh, thank the Goddess!" Guardian clapped his hands together excitedly. "It's been so long since we had a boy's night!"

Guardian's smile was infectious, and Jimmy found himself properly beaming once again. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Freeza and Guardian echoed his enthusiasm, and headed towards one of the deployment balconies with Jimmy in tow.

Jimmy's heart beat fast in his chest as he came to a stop right at the edge. He was looking over the city, as a hero. He was finally here.

"Let's see what you got, Good Guy!" Freeza said, zipping his dual-colored coat back up after slipping the papers in one of his inside pockets. Then, without any other warning, he ran to the edge of the balcony and leapt.

Panic lanced through Jimmy, but not a second later Freeza reappeared, skating along a bridge of ice he'd created into the city with a whoop of exhilaration.

Right. Ice powers. Jimmy felt a bit stupid to forget that, what with Freeza's whole winter getup and all.

Guardian released a sharp, inhuman whistle at Jimmy's side, and within seconds Jimmy noticed a massive flock of pigeons heading right for the tower in a unified group. Guardian grinned at Jimmy, and took a flying leap off the edge of the balcony.

Guardian's body didn't even start to fall before the pigeons caught him, clutching his limbs and clothes so effortlessly it was like the muscular hero weighed nothing. With much more speed than Jimmy was anticipating, Guardian soared right alongside Freeza, weaving around skyscrapers.

Jimmy was suddenly struck with the realization that he was finally going to follow them.

He whipped out his grappling hook from his utility belt, and took careful aim at one of the buildings Freeza and Guardian were flying past.

Jimmy had worked days and nights on a way to get around the city while being completely powerless, and he refused to give up on the grappling hook despite the fact that there were much easier methods of mobility at HQ. Most of his time earning his license was spent perfecting his design, and he could confidently say that he'd managed to make a grappling hook that operated on suction, so it wouldn't take out a window as he flew by, but would still support his weight and speed perfectly.

Jimmy took a deep breath and fired.

With a sharp 'zzzip!', his grappling hook shot right to the building in his aim, and the wire pulled taut as soon as the hook made contact. Jimmy grinned, and before his mind could scream its self-preservation instincts, he leapt off of the balcony's edge.

He yelled out as the wind instantly deafened him, his stomach flipping as he swung high above the city. He was thankful for the protective properties of his mask that allowed his eyes to stay open as he flew by at breakneck speed, because it meant he could see he was hurtling towards Freeza at an alarming velocity.

Without thinking, Jimmy clicked the release on his grappling hook, and for a split second that lasted an eternity, he was flying hundreds of feet in the air with nothing to catch him.

Thankfully, his instincts ingrained in him from the Hero Mobility Training class meant that he didn't even need to think before redirecting his grappling hook and firing at another building. His course sharply corrected, and he swung right over Freeza's head without incident.

Freeza cheered as he flew by, and Jimmy's cheeks hurt from how hard he was grinning. He whooped right back, releasing some of the adrenaline that was threatening to burst out of his chest in the form of a crazed laugh. 

Jimmy knew immediately that even the fastest roller coaster in the world wouldn't replicate this feeling. Once his fear took a backseat, swinging through the city was pure euphoria.

Guardian soared up to Jimmy's left, his flock of pigeons seamlessly sending him up and over Jimmy's path as he redirected his shot once again.

’Zzzip!’

Guardian cheered and whistled a tad too sharp to be human as Jimmy whipped around the corner of a massive glass skyscraper. Jimmy’s arms and core were burning from the effort of keeping his center of inertia steady, but he still felt lighter than air, electrically charged, like nothing on Earth could make him touch the ground again.

Unfortunately, all too quickly, Freeza shot ahead of them and skated to a stop on the rooftop of an older building. Guardian's flock sharply dove after him, and the pigeons gently settled him beside the frozen hero with surprising grace.

Jimmy was the last to arrive, and in his adrenaline-fueled line of thought, he figured that trying for a dramatic entrance was a great idea.

Jimmy clicked the release on his hook, and with the momentum of his swing, he maneuvered his body into a dizzying triple backflip.

Somehow, he'd timed it just right, and his feet hit the rooftop instead of his face. Elation shot through him, but was quickly flipped to alarm as his momentum didn't stop.

Jimmy tripped.

Pain lanced across his hands as he fell onto the concrete, rolling to a pathetic and painful stop right at Freeza and Guardian's feet.

Of course, the senior heroes immediately howled with laughter.

"Oh my Goddess! Good Guy, that was amazing!" Guardian shrieked with laughter, the visible parts of his face red with mirth as he knelt to help Jimmy to his feet. 

"Really pulling out the stops on your first day!" Freeza wheezed so hard that Jimmy thought he was genuinely going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

Jimmy kept his mouth shut and pressed into a thin line at their jeering, but his irritation was quickly overshadowed when he hissed with pain as Guardian helped him up.

"Oh goodness, where does it hurt?" Guardian asked. His voice was still dripping with amusement, but he'd stopped laughing to (assumedly) look Jimmy over for injuries.

"My hands," Jimmy admitted, muttering like a slighted child that didn't want to admit they needed help. Embarrassment coursed hot and terrible through him, but his palms stung severely from where he presumably cut his hands open on the concrete when he tried to catch his fall.

Guardian tutted like an sympathetic old woman, and went to pull off Jimmy's gloves to see the damage, to which he immediately snatched his hands away. "Wait–"

"Oh, relax." Freeza said, meeting Jimmy's eyes with startling understanding as he turned. "Let him help you. Guardian doesn’t bite unless you want him to."

Although his words were a bit inconsiderate, Freeza's tone was kind, and it was enough for Jimmy to reluctantly extend his hands back to Guardian. The green-clad hero smiled, and removed Jimmy's gloves with as much gentleness as possible.

As Jimmy suspected, angry red scrapes were scattered across his palms, and he was willing to bet the arm he landed on was in a similar state if how much it stung was anything to go by. Guardian's lips pursed together in a worried expression Jimmy was surprised to see.

Then, without warning, Guardian leaned over and planted an exaggerated kiss on both of his palms, smooch sound and all.

Jimmy squeaked and wrestled his hands away again, his ears burning, and he snapped open his mouth to ask what the heck Guardian thought he was doing, but a strange warmth made Jimmy turn back to his palms.

A warm yellow light, like sunshine, was pouring out of Jimmy's wounds, and he watched with wide, round eyes as the scrapes began to close up. In less than a few seconds, it was like Jimmy had never been hurt at all.

Stunned, Jimmy turned back to the senior hero, who had a smug grin on his face. "You—you have healing powers?"

"A gift from my Goddess!" Guardian explained proudly.

"But—that wasn't on your file!" Jimmy protested, looking back and forth from his healed hands to Guardian and back again. The hero giggled at his expression.

"Well, yeah, it wouldn't be on the one you had access to." Guardian replied. "Heroes have secret files, you know! Otherwise any old villain would have all of our tricks!"

"Oh." Jimmy said. That...actually made a lot of sense, especially considering that Jimmy remembered filling out a file of his own that had his identity on it for background check purposes. But to the public eye, the only name that was on a hero's file was their chosen name they used on duty.

"Besides, it's not much of a power to make a fuss about." Guardian waved his hand dismissively. "I can only heal little things. Nothing like what a hospital can do."

Jimmy was nodding along with Guardian's words, before he was suddenly struck with realization. "Wait, is—is that why you're my mentor this week?"

Guardian and Freeza shared an amused look that confirmed Jimmy's suspicion, and he groaned into his hands. 

"To be fair, it ended up being for good reason, ey?" Freeza teased, nudging Jimmy with his shoulder. "Mister Big Flip Boy?" 

"That's not my name!" Jimmy whipped his head to glare at Freeza, who looked gleefully and unflinchingly back. "Don't you dare call me that!"

Guardian giggled and patted his shoulder. "We're only joking, GG, calm down."

"'GG'?" Jimmy furrowed his brows at the nickname. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

"Be offended later, okay?" Freeza interrupted Guardian's response before he could start. "We're out here for a reason, you know."

"Right!" Jimmy snapped back into the mindset he had before leaving HQ, thankful for the distraction from the teasing as he pulled his gloves back on. It was hero time, and they were doing hero things.

"Now, Recon says that building over there has been confirmed to be in contact with the Soup Group." Freeza pointed to a smaller office building at the end of the block, clearly visible from the rooftop they currently stood on. "Our job is to go in there and investigate further. If things go to plan, they should see our whole getup and give us some more info without fuss."

Jimmy's eyes widened behind his mask. The Soup Group, as silly as their name was, were essentially a terrorist group that had been steadily trying to take down the Hero Society for years, even before Jimmy had the thought to join. They'd never used physical force, and instead focused all their efforts on disrupting the way the Society functioned. Sabotaging their supply warehouses, hacking into their security, vandalizing HQ on several occasions, even downing HQ's WiFi for a week—physical violence seemed to be the only thing the Soup Group held back on.

They had been antagonizing the Society for years, and in return, even HQ's best heroes haven't been able to garner anything about them. The only inclination to the identities of the Soup Group was their name, and even following that lead to every soup kitchen and restaurant in the country turned up absolutely no leads.

"This is a really big deal." Jimmy breathed, shock spinning in his head. No way this was his first mission.

"I told you, rookie!" Freeza's eyes crinkled in a hidden grin. "We're getting you in the thick of it right away!"

"And if anything happens, we'll be right there." Guardian assured warmly, correctly interpreting the look on Jimmy's face. "But you got this! I can already tell you're gonna be great."

"Thanks, Guardian." Jimmy replied, genuinely moved by the encouragement.

"Call me Sausage." The hero smiled. "When we're not in public, I mean!" 

Jimmy blinked rapidly. "Y—that's your name?! Why would you tell me your name?!" He squawked, dumbfounded.

"All us heroes know each other's first names." Freeza said casually. "It's an honor thing. We trust each other to keep it a secret, you know?"

Freeza winked at Jimmy. "And, you're on the team now. So, you can call me Martyn when we're not in front of civilians."

A strange warmth flooded through Jimmy, easing his buzzing nervousness at knowing something he felt like he shouldn't. He'd seen Freeza and Guardian walk the same halls as he had for years, but only in his dreams did he see himself here. In their ranks, trusted enough to reveal their identities, at least somewhat. 

"I'm—I'm Jimmy." He said, the nervousness returning full force as he spoke, but it came alongside a strange relief. Like he was actually a part of their team, now.

"That's a wonderful name!" Sausage praised, a big smile on his face. "Ready to get to business, Jimmy?"

Hearing Guardian, the senior hero, say his name like he was an equal filled Jimmy with a confidence he didn't know he possessed.

"Absolutely." He nodded with determination. He'd make his first mission a success, because that's what good guys do.

"Atta boy!" Martyn praised, and stepped back to launch himself off the roof. Sausage and Jimmy followed suit, and leapt to the little nondescript office building below.

-

Martyn took the lead as they walked up to the entrance, casually pushing open the glass door with a ding and held it open for the other two heroes. Sausage and Jimmy nodded in thanks before focusing their attention on the lobby they walked in on.

It was pristine, with cream colored couches sat on patterned carpet that Jimmy felt like he'd seen in every office he'd ever been to. A few potted plants sat in the corners, and a pleasant floral smell emanated from a scent lamp that sat on the receptionist's desk.

The receptionist herself was clicking away on her computer when the heroes arrived, but looked up when the door chimed.

For a fraction of a second, Jimmy saw something like alarm flash across her face. It was gone as quick as it came, and a polite smile sat in its place.

Jimmy thought he must have imagined it, and shook off the thought. Who would look at heroes with fear, anyway?

"Hello there, heroes! To what do we owe your visit?" The receptionist chirped. Martyn's eyes crinkled in what Jimmy assumed was an easy smile under his scarf.

"Hello! We're here on some new information about the Soup Group?" Martyn replied. "We're just here to ask a few questions."

"Oh, you probably want to talk to my boss." The receptionist smiled and picked up her phone, pressing a button on the keypad. "Sir? Some heroes are here meddling where they shouldn't be."

And that was when it all went wrong.

Before any of them could react to that statement, the walls came alive with tech that Jimmy immediately assumed was weaponry.

Panic flashed through him like a grenade, but before he could even move to retrieve his weapon, a chill set upon his very bones as he was encased in a cage of ice.

"Hey!" Jimmy snapped his head to Martyn, to either demand what was going on or see the reasoning for himself, but the hero wasn't looking at him.

He was instead up in arms beside Sausage, tense as steel. The outside of the ice cage was warped slightly with how the light refracted through, but Jimmy could still see a very uncharacteristic seriousness in Martyn's eyes.

"Sorry, Good Guy, chill out for a bit." Martyn ordered, his words clipped. In a different situation, Jimmy would've groaned at the pun that Martyn didn't seem to realize he even made, but the hero's tone just made Jimmy's eyes widen.

"I can handle myself!" Jimmy argued hotly, but the rest of his words died in his throat as a new figure appeared in the lobby.

Their identity was obscured with what looked like a gas mask that completely covered their face, and then went the extra mile to extend into metal ram horns over their head. One of the goggles of the mask was lit up with an eerie red glow. A torn lab coat hung from their built frame, perfectly showing off their very complex-looking robotic arm and chestplate.

They were, admittedly, a very intimidating sight.

"I would not move if I were you." The person said, their voice heavily distorted within their mask. Jimmy saw Sausage tense.

"Goatfather." Martyn acknowledged coolly, and Jimmy froze up at the name. 

He'd only heard legends of the Goatfather, a man so ruthless and crazed that he altered his own body for the purpose of world domination. His tech was unmatched by anything the Hero Society could do, and he was terrifyingly effective when he clashed with heroes in broad daylight.

The Goatfather hadn't been heard from in nearly three decades. Many assumed he'd died from his self-experimentation, that playing god had finally ended in his own demise.

And yet, here he was. And all of his tech was pointed right at them.

The receptionist had disappeared, presumably during the Goatfather's entrance. Jimmy was slightly relieved he didn't have to worry about civilian control, even if she did seem to be the one to sic the Goatfather on them.

"What is your purpose here?" The Goatfather asked, and Jimmy shivered at his mechanically deep voice. It was probably built to be unsettling, and it was very effective.

"We came here to investigate." Sausage answered, all the warmth and playfulness in his tone earlier completely gone. "We have no quarrel with you, Goatfather. We're looking for the Soup Group."

The Goatfather laughed at that, and Jimmy cringed.

"Ah, you see...that is a problem." The Goatfather said, folding his hands behind his back. "I cannot have you going after my allies."

Martyn's eyes widened with the same realization that dawned on Jimmy.

"You're allied with the Soup Group?" Jimmy repeated, feeling a bit faint. The Soup Group was a threat to the Hero Society, but their actual presence was an ant compared to the Goatfather. The villain in front of them right now had destroyed entire buildings with devastating efficiency, uncaring that there were heroes still inside. The Goatfather had killed people before, heroes and civilians alike. 

If a force like that was allied with the people that had already gotten into the Hero Society's security-

Jimmy didn't have the stomach to finish that thought. Panic prickled at his neck as his hairs stood on end, a very unfamiliar fear crawling up his spine.

The Goatfather seemed to pick up on the heroes' shift in mood, and he let out another eerie laugh.

"Don't be so shocked, new guy." The Goatfather said, and dread pooled in Jimmy's gut as he realized the villain was talking to him. "I bet you don't even know what kind of war you're fighting."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Martyn snapped, taking a step forward. Even through the ice containing him, Jimmy saw frost beginning to grow on Martyn's sleeves, sharp and sudden.

In clear contrast to the hero's anger, the Goatfather leaned back in place, and put his hands in his pockets. Jimmy got the feeling that the villain was smiling under his mask.

"Do you even know the whole story?" The Goatfather ignored Martyn entirely, and Jimmy swore he could feel the Goatfather's eyes piercing right through him. "Do you know why we do what we do? Why the Hero Society is so desperate to call us 'villains'?"

"That's enough, Goatfather." Sausage's voice was uncharacteristically steely, and it made Jimmy wince. The Goatfather raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, I'm done." The villain appeased, sounding not the least bit apologetic. "But for what it's worth, new guy, I wouldn't blindly follow what you have been told."

Before Jimmy could even think of a response for that, the weaponry in the walls fired.

Jimmy immediately dropped to the floor, but it ended up being an unnecessary action, as the cage of ice protected him from the projectiles that shot towards the heroes at terrifying speed.

Martyn and Sausage, however, were not so fortunate.

The senior heroes flinched when the weapons went off, and moved to defend themselves, but they both suddenly swayed in place.

Then, almost comically, the heroes fell to the floor, crumpling into dead weight.

Jimmy screamed.

"Guys!! Oh my—GUYS!!" Jimmy yelled, jumping to his feet and slamming against the cage of ice, trying to get through to aid his teammates.

The wall of ice didn't move under his force, but Jimmy saw it splinter. 

With renewed vigor, Jimmy slammed into the same spot again and again, gritting his teeth against the pain that exploded over his shoulder.

The next time he slammed into the ice, it finally gave, and Jimmy found himself falling forward with all the force he used to break through. He managed to catch himself at the last second and redirected his fall so he didn't land on Sausage.

Jimmy scrambled to his feet, hissing in pain as he cut his palm through his glove on a shard of ice from his broken cage. Swiftly ignoring it, he moved to the senior heroes' sides, his heart beating so loud in his chest that he couldn't hear his thoughts.

Darts stuck out from Sausage's arms and neck, empty of whatever had been contained in the tiny capsules. He was limp when Jimmy touched him, but he could see the hero's chest rising and falling at an even pace, and relief turned Jimmy dizzy.

A closer look at Martyn revealed the same, though there was only one dart that managed to hit his skin, thanks to the surprisingly dense armor of his coat. Evidently, it was enough, because the hero was just as thoroughly unconscious.

Jimmy jumped to his feet, suddenly remembering why his fellow heroes were in this situation in the first place, and cursed under his breath when the Goatfather was nowhere to be found.

He should've gone after the villain, Jimmy realized belatedly, and guilt clawed up his throat from his stomach. He should've apprehended the criminal no matter what, like he had been trained.

But now, because of Jimmy and his stupid fear for his teammates, one of the most dangerous villains to ever exist had disappeared right under their noses.

Jimmy swallowed dryly, the guilt a heavy, constricting ball in his chest. He was the only one not hit. He could've followed the Goatfather.

Jimmy silently activated his comms.

"Requesting backup at Animalia Boulevard. Two heroes are down."

[arts-and-drafts]

CHAPTER FIVE OF "YOUR BOLDNESS STANDS ALONE" IS UP!! In a bit of a rush today so I won't be crossposting just yet!

[arts-and-drafts]

NEW CHAPTER OF 'YOUR BOLDNESS STANDS ALONE'! I am not posting this one on Tumblr bc I don't want to get shadow-banned...but please go read it!

[arts-and-drafts]

Your Boldness Stands Alone (Chapter Three)

AO3 LINK

CWs: Emetophobia mention, (very) minor body horror

In which Tommy tries to lay low. Keyword 'tries'.

-

Tommy was the best at keeping a secret, obviously.

In fact he was so good at it, that the only reason anyone might think otherwise would be just because he was just such an upstart big man that was honorable and didn’t like lying. Obviously.

…That, and it was really, really fucking hard to keep super-spider powers a secret.

Tommy had gotten the hang (ha) of his strength and sticking, but other problems with his new powers arose very quickly and very obviously.

A very annoying thing that his new super-cool-super-spider body had acquired was the super-sensitivity that came with it. Tommy could hear fucking everything. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could hear a car turning on from three blocks away, which sounded cool as hell, but when he was trying to sleep it was much less awesome.

And of course, Phil noticed that Tommy was sleepy and sluggish, so he not-so-subtly tried to get Tommy to fess up to late-night gaming or something, which irritated him. Tommy was genuinely trying to sleep, he wasn’t even doing anything fun, which he complained to Wilbur about at length.

(The next day, though, Wilbur came back from his band practice and handed Tommy sensory headphones. It made something warm bloom in his chest, not that he’d ever tell Wilbur that. He’d never hear the end of it.)

Tommy also smelled way more than he used to—as in olfaction, not stinking, he may be a proud raccoon boy but he made sure to shower every day. 

Anyway, he olfacted way more than he used to, which was…a mix of good and bad. Good, because now he could smell Phil’s dinner way better, but bad, because he could also smell coffee so strongly now that it ice-picked into his brain.

Tommy knew spiders didn’t like coffee, but he was super bummed about it affecting him—though, fortunately, it seemed his super-spider senses weren’t nearly as averse to Coke, thank Prime, so Tommy still got his caffeine fix.

The most difficult thing to hide was his appetite.

After he’d fully recovered from the bite, Tommy was fucking starving, all the time. He’d even gone as far as to beg Phil for more food at dinner, which his dad confusedly agreed to, but it didn’t seem to be enough. But he couldn’t just run around shoving food in his face at every moment, because that would make people suspicious, and that was the opposite of what Wilbur asked of him.

So Tommy had to just amble through the next few days like normal, and act like he wasn’t shriveling away at every moment that he wasn’t eating.

During that time, Techno approached him, and monotonously offered to teach Tommy how to make gnocchi. Tommy thought it was way out of left field at first, but still agreed, because cooking with Techno was always fun, even if it sometimes ended with Techno chasing Tommy out of the kitchen with a spatula after he’d accidentally lit something on fire.

(To be fair, Techno should have told him not to put aluminum foil in the microwave before he did it that one time. How was Tommy supposed to know everything exploded when that happened?!)

It was after several hours and a few whacks on the head (that Tommy had to let happen—it wasn’t really discreet to dodge every attempted blow), that Tommy finally realized why Techno went through the trouble with him. Gnocchi was fucking good, and more importantly, it was very filling.

Tommy finally had leftovers, after days of scarfing down anything he could get his dirty little crime boy hands on. It was a welcome relief to not have to worry about starving anymore, especially since Techno never badgered him about why he was so hungry like Phil kept trying to do.

But…now that he was properly eating, Tommy swiftly noticed a new issue. The underside of his wrists had started to ache, and no matter how much he rubbed them, it only seemed to get worse.

Painkillers did absolutely nothing for him, a new discovery that would have probably caused him a lot more concern if he wasn’t so distracted with how badly his fuckin’ wrists hurt.

The day after Techno taught him to make gnocchi, Tommy was sitting on his bed, glaring at his wrists, as if he would be able to get them to stop hurting just by will. It looked like the biggest zits Tommy had ever seen were growing there, red and angry, something that Tommy would have believed if it weren’t for the fact that both ‘zits’ were in the exact same place on either wrist.

Fed up, Tommy firmly pressed the thumb of his other hand on his right wrist to try and ‘pop’ the upset, raised skin.

He swore and flinched when fucking something shot out of the ‘zit’, with so much force that it hit the opposite wall with a ‘thwap’.

Tommy’s eyes went wide as saucers when he saw what looked like a spiderweb had been shot at the wall.

“Wh-what the-” His eyes went down to his wrists again, and he squinted to look at them closer. He had to squint close, but he saw-

Holy. Shit.

He could recognize those anywhere, he’d looked at enough cool pictures of spiders to know. The ‘zits’ were fucking spinnerets, just like what was on a spider’s bum.

Tommy looked back up at the spot where he’d shot a fucking web at his wall, his mouth dropping open.

He hesitantly flexed his wrist, and a laugh was startled out of him when another fucking web came out of him and hit the wall again. “H-holy shit!”

Tommy jumped out of his bed and ran to the webbed wall, hesitantly touching the silky strands. They were sticky (gross), but when Tommy experimentally pulled on one of the strands between his fingers, it was like trying to pull steel apart, even with his enhanced strength. Tommy stared at the webs with wide, awed eyes.

“...I am so glad those didn’t come from my ass,” He mumbled to himself.

-

Tommy was finally allowed to go back to school after Phil kept him for a long weekend (“just to be sure”), and that just came with a whole new slew of problems.

Thanks to his new super-senses, Tommy smelled every bit of gross B.O. and Lynx Africa and other colognes and perfumes that the other students wore, so potent that it almost had him throwing up when it all smacked him in the face when he crossed the threshold of the school’s entrance.

However, though, because he was a badass big man that would rather die than let some damn Lynx Africa do him in, Tommy managed to get ahold of himself and just took shallow breaths as he navigated the crowded halls to find his friends.

He finally noticed Eryn and Tubbo chatting by their lockers, and Eryn lit up when he noticed Tommy.

“Holy shit, there he is!” Eryn immediately ran to Tommy and clapped him on the back, grinning widely. “We thought you died, mate!”

“What the hell happened to you?” Tubbo asked, his eyes concerned as he looked Tommy up and down. He wasn’t in Tommy and Eryn’s class on the field trip to the bug museum, and Tommy belatedly realized he didn’t even text his friends over his extended weekend, which, to be fair,Tommy kind of had other things going on.

“Oh, I passed out,” Tommy casually tried to breeze past the question. Don’t be suspicious. “Phil kept me for a long weekend to make sure I wouldn’t fuckin’ keel over or something.”

“That sounds like him.” Eryn huffed, shaking his head amusedly. He roughly mussed Tommy’s curls, laughing at his resulting squawk and shove. “Glad you feel better, Tom.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off me, you prick-“ Tommy fought to not smile. Fuck, it was good to be with his friends again. He missed this normalcy after the crazy fucking weekend he had.

“Did you see Ranboo on your way in?” Tubbo asked Tommy, standing on his tiptoes to try and see through the crowd. Tommy rolled his eyes.

“No, I didn’t. How bad is your fuckin’ separation anxiety?” He asked flatly, and dodged a swat that Tubbo threw at him.

“It’s not separation anxiety, she’s just not answering my messages.” Tubbo sniffed haughtily.

“Maybe she broke up with you,” Eryn yawned boredly behind his hand, only barely managing to jump out of the way of Tubbo aiming a kick at his shin with a squeaky laugh.

“Ranboo wouldn’t ghost me if she wanted to break up, that’s not like her,” Tubbo frowned as he scanned the crowd of students again. Tommy groaned.

“Tubbo, you’re bein’ clingy again,” He pointed out, and Tubbo gave him an unimpressed look.

“Says the one that had a meltdown when I wasn’t able to text over spring holiday.” Tubbo flatly said. Tommy’s cheeks went red, and Eryn barked a laugh.

“That was different! You were vacationing in fuckin’ America, dickhead, I thought you got shot!” Tommy vehemently defended himself, and Tubbo just rolled his eyes.

“No American has the balls to shoot me, Tom-“ Tubbo started with a huff, but he was cut off by the school bell ringing.

Tommy’s hands flew to his ears with a choked sound, the bell almost making him fall to his knees. It felt like there were thirty-eight million ice picks drilling into his brain all at once-

“Tommy-?!” That strange tingle in the back of his head again, there were hands coming towards him-

Tommy ducked before he could be touched on complete instinct, gritting his teeth hard enough to hurt his jaw as he tried to get ahold of himself-

He almost sobbed in relief when the bell stopped ringing, and he was finally able to think past the pain in his head. He gasped a few desperate breaths to calm himself before he raised his eyes to see Eryn and Tubbo worriedly staring at him, Tubbo helplessly gripping the emergency inhaler he always kept on his person in the rare case that Tommy forgot his.

“W-what the fuck was that, Tom?” Eryn asked shakily, obviously hesitant to touch his friend. Tommy took a careful breath.

“H-headache,” He lied, massaging his temples as he straightened again. “Sorry-”

“That didn’t-” Eryn immediately went to protest, but Tubbo sighed and pocketed the inhaler again to wordlessly interrupt him. Tommy noticed that Tubbo was looking at him strangely now, and that tingle in the back of his brain briefly pinged.

“Do you need some drugs*, Tommy?” Tubbo asked, and Tommy shook his head with a little laugh.

“Uh—I’m alright, it’ll—it’s probably just a caffeine headache or something-” Tommy lied again, sweating a little when Tubbo barely narrowed his eyes.

“...Alright,” Tubbo finally relented, and Tommy really tried to not look too relieved. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

The three of them headed together towards the lower sixth wing of the school, where they regrettably had to part ways until lunch, though Tommy was internally grateful to get away from Tubbo’s suspicious glances. Tubbo knew Tommy better than he knew himself sometimes, and that meant that Tommy was a hundred-percent-sure Tubbo knew he was lying.

He had to be cool. He had to act like nothing was wrong so Tubbo would lay off.

Tommy took his seat at the very back of the class, struggling with trying to get his act together. He couldn’t have another freakout like that when the bell rang…that would be way too suspicious.

Tommy ended up watching the clock on the wall more than he paid attention to the teacher, so he could tense everything in his body to not react when that horrible, torturous bell sounded off again.

And then he had to do it again, and again…Tommy didn’t learn a single goddamn thing for the first half of the day, and took a second for himself to fuckin’ breathe before he forced himself to head to lunch.

Don’t. Be. Suspicious.

Tommy regretfully headed to the cafeteria, putting on the sensory headphones he got from Wilbur. He wasn’t allowed to wear them in class, but he’d snatch every bit of muffled hearing he could get outside of it.

On his way to the cafeteria, he happened to pass the window to the front of the school, and then he almost tripped over his feet when he felt that strange sense in the back of his head spike out of nowhere, more powerful than it had ever been up until this point.

Tommy whipped around, expecting something coming at him, but there was nothing, no students throwing things or visible dangers to avoid, though he did get a few odd looks from passing students.

Tommy’s skin prickled. Unease felt like a physical blockage in his throat, but he couldn’t see whatever that sense was warning him about.

After a few more seconds of just standing there with nothing happening, Tommy hesitantly decided to just focus on getting to the cafeteria.

He felt simultaneously glad and exhausted when he got to the cafeteria—there were so many students, so many smells, and so much noise, though Wilbur’s headphones really helped. Tommy quickly located his friends and sat down with a sigh.

“Still no Ranboob?” Tommy asked Tubbo, glancing at the empty seat at the table. Tubbo kicked him under the table, and Tommy had to make an effort to not instinctively move out of the way before it happened.

“Don’t call her that.” Tubbo grouched. “And no, I still can’t even get a hold of her…” He frowned concernedly at his phone. “Maybe I should ring Niki.”

“You are so clingy.” Tommy groaned, pulling out the first tupperware of gnocchi from his bag. “No wonder she’s not picking up-”

“Will you shut it with that?” Tubbo snapped. “I’m genuinely worried over here-”

“Tubs, c’mon.” Eryn said around his mouthful of sandwich. “Niki’d tell us if sum’n happen’d-”

“Yeh, she would.” Tommy agreed, shoveling pasta into his mouth. “So chill, would ya?”

Tubbo huffed and grumbled, but he stopped outwardly fretting over Ranboo. Instead, he focused his attention on Tommy, and Tommy froze. He knew that look.

“What was up this morning, Tom?” Tubbo asked pointedly. Eryn was still chowing down on his lunch, but he glanced Tommy’s way as well, clearly wanting to hear an answer.

Tommy swallowed his bite.

“...Headache. Told you.” He replied, as nonchalantly as he could. Tubbo’s eyes narrowed.

“Even when you’ve had migraines, you’ve never freaked out at the bell so much.” Tubbo pointed out, his eyes going to the headphones on Tommy’s head. “And you’re wearing-”

“I lost a bet.” Tommy interrupted, internally sweating. “With—Wilbur. So now I have to wear his dumb smelly headphones.”

Tubbo still looked unconvinced, but Eryn snickered. 

“Misfortune just follows you, huh, Tom?” He joked. “Never a dull day in your life.”

Tommy forced a laugh, that strange unease still prickling in the back of his head.

Eryn really had no idea how true his words were.

(*as in painkillers, not "drugs" drugs)

[arts-and-drafts]

COME MORNING LIGHT PART FIFTEEN IS OUT!!!! I will crosspost later on tungle I'm lazy rn :,)

[arts-and-drafts]

COME MORNING LIGHT PART FOURTEEN IS FINALLY OUT!!! Not crossposting on Tumblr rn because it is so long and I am so tired sorry 💀

[arts-and-drafts]

Learning To Fly (But I Ain't Got Wings) - Chapter Four

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / AO3 LINK

(Short update this time! I kept trying to make it longer and then decided that the shortness of it made it feel like a gut punch :)c so enjoy!)

CWs; Hallucinations mention

-

Tubbo was fiddling with the different ways to make a hopper combination lock when he heard—him.

“Pa-HAH!”

His laugh. Tommy’s laugh. Tommy’s laugh. Tubbo was moving before he could register it, a desperation like nothing he’d ever experienced making him scramble up the hill on all fours, off like a shot towards the sound and ignoring TFC’s startled call.

Tubbo’s heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears, and he sprinted around buildings and signs until-

It looked like a plaza of sorts, a collection of shops in all different build styles and promoting different wares, with trees bearing diamonds like fruit. But Tubbo’s focus wasn’t on any of that—it was on the flash of gold hair and a face that froze him up like an armor stand.

Tommy.

He was…smiling.

Tubbo couldn’t remember the last time he saw Tommy smiling, saw him laughing. His last memory of Tommy was his best friend looking at him with a pale face, horror and betrayal in his eyes as Tubbo sentenced him to exile…

This felt like a dream Tubbo wasn’t allowed to witness. Tommy looked…happy, and…it was no thanks to Tubbo, the boy that was supposed to be his best friend through thick and thin.

Tommy was with two other hermits that Tubbo hadn’t met yet, one that looked like a zombie and another that looked like an ancient pharaoh. He was giggling, and the other two were smiling, the zombie lady ruffling Tommy’s hair with a familiarity that made Tubbo’s heart ache.

Tubbo couldn’t hear what they were saying, though he doubted he could even if he was close enough. He felt like his ears were ringing.

He took a step forward, and then Tommy’s eyes flicked over to him.

Tubbo’s breath froze in his lungs. That one, single moment felt like it lasted an eternity, with the both of them making eye contact for the first time since Tubbo exiled Tommy almost two years ago.

And then Tommy’s eyes slid right off of him, and he turned away to continue his conversation.

Tubbo felt like he’d been turned into stone. He was frozen as he just watched Tommy and the two other hermits walk away, until they disappeared into the purple magic of a nether portal,  leaving Tubbo feeling completely and utterly numb.

-

Tommy tried to shake off a pang of heartache as he listened to Cub and Cleo talk about another story they were planning to write for the Hermiton Herald, following them to their portal in the Nether Hub.

He hadn’t had a hallucination of Tubbo in a while.

Maybe he should get more sleep tonight.

[arts-and-drafts]

Your Boldness Stands Alone (Part Two)

PREVIOUS (Part One) / NEXT (Part Three)

AO3 LINK

PART TWO!!! This one took me a while (both because of life stuff and difficulty with writing) and it's a little shorter than last chapter, but bear with me! We're just getting started >:)

CWs: (Slight) body horror, emetophobia, mention/depiction of illness, depiction of a panic attack, dissociative amnesia

-

To be absolutely fair and honest, it really was all Ranboo's fault she was in the situation she was currently in.

It was her choice to follow a streaking comet into the woods at night, not bothering to keep track of her way, since she was confident she knew the woods behind their house like the back of her hand.

As it turned out, she must've not known the back of her hand at all, because she was well and truly lost with only her phone flashlight to guide her.

"Niki's gonna kill me..." Ranboo muttered to herself, squinting her eyes to sweep over the woods once more. "Can't even find the damn thing-"

She didn't really have a plan when she decided to chase after the asteroid. She just knew that it was cool, and she maybe wanted to brag that she found a meteor from outer space in her backyard.

Ranboo huffed in annoyance when her second sweep offered up nothing new. She was still just as lost and confused as before.

Time to bite the bullet, then.

Ranboo turned back to her phone to text Niki and ask her roommate to try and find her, but right before she tapped on Niki’s contact, her phone—and her surroundings—went completely dark.

Her phone died.

"Oh, shit."

Ranboo squinted through the trees again, desperately searching for any hint of light through the dark woods. Maybe she could see their house lights better now that it was dark?

As the thought crossed her mind, she noticed an orange glow through the trees. Thank God.

Ranboo carefully moved forward, her arms ahead of her, making her way towards the glow with minimal tripping and bumping right into a tree or two. Damn it, it was dark. 

Ranboo became steadily aware of the sound of hissing as she got closer, and after dodging through a few trees, she realized why.

It was the meteor.

Its crash caused the glow that guided her, as the earth around the crash site was still orange with embers from the meteor’s entry. The ground smoked and sizzled around the meteor, undoubtedly reacting to the heat it brought with it by breaking through the atmosphere.

Ranboo found it.

She wished her phone wasn't dead so she could take a picture. For a moment, she let herself forget she was lost, and leaned as close to the small crater as she dared to get a better look.

It moved.

Ranboo jerked back and fell flat on her ass.

The meteor crumbled as something seemed to crawl out of it, all tendrils and slimy in the low light.

"What the hell." Ranboo whispered fervently, desperately scooting back as the thing started coming closer. "What the hell, what the hell–"

Ranboo scrambled to her feet, her vision already fading into the darkness the farther she got away from the crash site. 

She heard the thing moving closer, so she turned around and moved as fast as she dared through the trees she couldn't see.

Predictably, she only got a few feet away before her shoe caught on an unseen root and she pitched forward with a startled yelp, seeing stars when her head collided with a tree trunk.

Ranboo blinked open her eyes on the ground, flat on her back. She let out a groan at the throbbing pain radiating from her temple. 

Then something unpleasantly cold and wet touched her leg, and she screamed, jerking away from it. The thing stayed fast even as Ranboo desperately kicked her leg to fling it off, and started moving up her leg towards her face at a terrifying speed.

Ranboo couldn't see anything, but just the feeling of the thing crawling up to her chest was enough to make her start truly panicking.

Her breaths came in terrified gasps, and she on instinct tried to grab the thing to fling it off of herself, gagging at the feeling of its cold and slimy form wriggling against her hand.

It slipped out of her grasp easily, and it felt like the frigid expanse of space incarnate settled inside her very bones as the thing dissolved into her chest.

Ranboo let out a choking scream, and—

—she was in front of her house, her head in Niki's hands.

"Ran!" Niki gasped as Ranboo fell to the ground, on her hands and knees. Ranboo retched, her throat searing with pain like fire as she ejected what felt like her entire being from her stomach.

"Oh my god, Ranboo–" Niki panicked as Ranboo heaved and coughed for breath, throwing herself away from the mess to lay on the wet grass. She was trembling uncontrollably, feeling feverish and ice cold all at the same time. She desperately tried to suck in a breath that wouldn't come.

Niki's unclear visage appeared in her range of view. It was dark, and she couldn't see her roommate’s face at all with the harsh orange light of their porch bulb at her back.

"Ranboo, you need to breathe," Niki ordered shakily, and she felt Niki’s hands on her shoulders. "In through your nose, remember?"

Ranboo desperately tried to focus on her voice, but she couldn't get her body under control long enough to take a proper breath.

"Ranboo, please," Niki pleaded, sounding near tears. Ranboo coughed and closed her eyes, clamping a hand over her mouth.

With her main airway blocked, she was forced to breathe through her nose, and her panicked gasps very quickly slowed as she just plainly couldn't hyperventilate with that small of an airway without passing out.

"There you go, there you go-" Niki breathed, rubbing gentle circles with her thumbs into Ranboo's shoulders. Ranboo's breathing heaved slower and slower before she felt it was safe to remove her hand from her mouth.

"W-wh-what ha-happened-" Ranboo stuttered, her voice raspy and breathless. Niki made a noise of despair.

"I just—I just found you stumbling out of the woods," She said, her voice breaking. "Were you attacked-? You look—oh, Ran-" Niki cut herself off and pressed a hand to her mouth, sniffling. Ranboo tried to sit up with trembling limbs.

"I-I need to go—inside," Ranboo said unsteadily. Niki sucked in a breath.

"Oh my god, of course—can you stand?" She asked shakily. Ranboo didn't honestly know the answer to that question, but she nodded anyway.

She ended up almost entirely bent over Niki as she dragged her to the house, their considerable height difference probably not doing her any favors. If Ranboo didn't feel like she was literally about to die, she would've tried to help Niki out more, but all she could manage was moving her feet with agonizing clumsiness.

Niki laid Ranboo as gently as she could on the couch, and Ranboo sank into it, her entire body protesting. It felt like she'd been put in a human-sized dryer. Every part of her ached down to her bones.

"Ran, tell me what I can do for you," Niki pleaded, wringing her hands tearfully. Ranboo was truthfully just trying to stay conscious at this point.

"I don’—dunno," Ranboo replied thickly. "It hurts."

"What does?" Niki asked, panicked, but Ranboo was already slipping away.

-

Her dreams were....weird.

It was all flashes of color and the occasional bite of bitter, freezing cold, colder than anything Ranboo had ever felt in her life. She also saw flashes of her own memories, her life, moments gone as soon as she recalled them in her unconscious state.

Then she was...flying? Falling? She couldn't tell, but it sent a surge of terror through her so potent that it wrenched her out of the dream immediately.

She hissed as she flinched at the light coming through the window, her body protesting, though the pain wasn't nearly as bad as last night. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she realized Niki was still by her side, asleep with her head laid on her crossed arms against Ranboo’s legs.

Ranboo could see where Niki’s mascara ran from crying the night before, and she winced.

"Niki," she whispered, nudging her roommate gently. Niki mumbled incoherently and buried her face into her arms.

"Niki, wake up." Ranboo pleaded weakly, nudging Niki more insistently. She roused enough to blink open an eye at Ranboo, and for a moment sleepy confusion muddled her expression.

Then, her eyes flew open and she jerked upright, grabbing Ranboo's wrists as if to ensure she was still there.

"Ranboo! Oh my god—are you okay?!" Niki asked fervently, pale and scared.

“I—I think so,” Ranboo uttered, her mind still confused and foggy. Her body ached like she just completed a triathlon, but she could ignore it. “What…happened?”

Niki’s expression went strained and distressed. “Y-you don’t remember? You came stumbling out of the woods, y-you looked like you’d been attacked-” Niki teared up again, and she pulled Ranboo into a tight embrace before Ranboo could even react.

Ranboo froze up, but hesitantly returned the embrace. She really must have scared Niki if she was acting like this…

“I…I’m alright, Niki.” Ranboo said carefully, not wanting to divulge exactly what happened, or at least what she remembered. She was sure that would just make Niki freak out even more. “I just…I got a little lost out there. I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you call me? Oh my God, Ran, you looked like death-” Niki sniffled, squeezing Ranboo tighter. Ranboo felt an uncharacteristic pang of guilt in her chest.

“My phone died. I was just about to call you, I swear.” Ranboo quietly replied, trying to assure Niki so she stopped crying. It made Ranboo’s chest twist when Niki cried.

Niki exhaled and clearly had to force herself to let go, wiping under her eyes and smearing her mascara more. Ranboo cringed slightly.

“...How about we both go get cleaned up?” Ranboo awkwardly reached out to pat Niki’s shoulder. “I need to brush my teeth, and shower, and…you should freshen up, hm?” She tried to not sound mean, she really did, but Niki still uttered that exasperated chuckle that she always replied with when Ranboo lacked tact once again.

“...Yeah…that’s a good idea,” Niki sniffled and rubbed her face. “And I’ll—I’ll make breakfast. Do you…think it’s a good idea for you to go to school today?” She asked, her voice still a little wavery.

“I-” School? Ranboo just came into contact with an unknown lifeform and Niki expected her to be worried about school?

Ranboo shook off the thought. She had to act normal until she had all the information she needed (or wanted) to share with Niki.

“...We’ll see.” Ranboo replied vaguely, standing up from the couch with a small wince. Her body really hurt, God…

She left for the upstairs bathroom—her bathroom, explicitly—with the intent to have a nice hot shower and debrief with herself.

Ranboo got to the bathroom with a change of clean clothes before a deep, growly voice halted her in her tracks.

RANBOO.

Ranboo dropped her clothes, whipping around, but there was nobody in the bathroom with her, obviously.

“W-what the-” Ranboo whispered, her hushed voice pitched. “Who-”

FOOD. WE ARE HUNGRY.

“What the fuck,” Ranboo stumbled back, knocking over bottles from her extensive skincare routine when she hit the bathroom counter. “W-who’s saying-?!”

HUNGRY!

Ranboo choked on a strangled noise when her arm suddenly moved on its own, her breath sticking in her throat in horror and confusion. She grabbed her arm with her other hand, jerking her arm back to her side.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Ranboo whispered shrilly, keeping her voice down so Niki didn’t hear her. Her heart was racing so fast that she felt dizzy.

WE. ARE. HUNGRY. The voice was so close, practically in Ranboo’s brain, but there was no one there. FEED US NOW, OR WE WILL DO IT FOR US!

“Who is us?!” Ranboo asked frantically, on the verge of a panic attack. She was going crazy, hearing a voice that wasn’t there, she had to be going crazy-

Ranboo uttered a strangled cry when her arm moved out of her control again, what looked like black slime crawling out of her skin. Her arm jerked unnaturally, clapping her hand over her mouth before she could make another sound.

The black slime coalesced into a strange mass the size of a football, milky white eyes and rows and rows of jagged teeth manifesting into a twisted visage of a face. Ranboo stared in horror with wide eyes as the mass moved closer to her face, her own arm not obeying her impulses to release its position over her mouth.

“WE ARE VENOM.” The mass growled out, its terrifying voice finally external. “RANBOO IS OUR NEW HOST. RANBOO WILL FEED US. UNDERSTAND?”

Ranboo’s legs shook under her, her mind almost whiting out in utter terror. She felt that same black slime crawl down her legs to strengthen her stance.

“NO PASSING OUT. WEAK.” Venom growled, narrowing its milky eyes and leaning even closer. Ranboo was trembling, her eyes wide and fearful as she still couldn’t make a sound through her own hand. She forced herself to nod, the action jerky and shaking.

“GOOD.” That horrible, toothy mouth twisted into an unmistakably smug grin. “RANBOO IS LEARNING. RANBOO WILL BE A GOOD HOST. RANBOO WILL FEED US. RIGHT?”

Ranboo inhaled a shaking breath through her nose. She was completely at this—this thing’s mercy, and she only saw one way out of this right now.

She forced another small nod, trembling uncontrollably.

Venom’s terrible grin spread wider.

-

Niki felt a lot better as she exited her bathroom, rubbing her face with a small towel. What happened the night before was terrifying, but Ranboo was okay…they’d be okay.

Niki rounded the corner to get a start on breakfast in the kitchen, and froze up completely.

The kitchen looked like a tornado had blown through it. The cabinet doors were practically ripped off their hinges, and there was mess all over the surfaces and floor, remnants of packaging and pieces of food strewn about.

In the center of it all was Ranboo, hunched over on the floor and desperately digging through the trash can like a woman possessed. She looked disheveled, which never happened to her; it was well known that Ranboo would rather die than be caught looking anything less than immaculate, and now she was on her knees shoveling through garbage.

Ranboo snapped her head up when a floorboard creaked under Niki’s feet, and after a long, long silence of shared eye contact, Ranboo swallowed.

“...I’m not going to school today,” She rasped.

[galoogamelady]

How do you draw blood? I always make mine look like they got ketchup on them

It depends on what kind of blood we’re talking about. Not like I’m a specialist or anything but the color and consistency of blood depends on where it’s taken from (veins, arteries, organs), how it was applied (splatter, drip, soak), when it was applied (old blood goes black) and what kind of material it is applied to (human skin, scales, fur, fabric, etc). Now obviously I’m not known for photo-realistic rendering but it’s good to know the differences anyway.I am still experimenting with drawing blood but here are some different things I’ve done so far:

This is just your average blood stuff on skin, fabric and fur. I sometimes combine random splatter brushes but I almost always end up using kyletwebster‘s watercolor brushes. (And some other ones mostly from his megapack.)I do separate layers because older, dried blood turns dark with time while fresh blood still has a shine to it. I try to keep it balanced between clean edges (drops, pouring) and smeared parts. I think my style allows me to use both but for a cel-shaded look I’d do something like that last orc picture.^My favorite cartoony blood is definitely from Venture Bros. It’s nicely stylized and easy to animate.

Another thing I like drawing is dynamic blood squirts! As you can see on the second image, I draw the little triangle-shaped drips along an action line, complete with its own inside-shadows and shines. Then I select it part-by-part (not all at once!) and motion blur each part in the direction of the sprinkle.

And finally, here’s a thing I did last week. Blood bath!!Of course you don’t have to use a fancy grid to transform it accurately, you can just draw a quick perspective plane for yourself.This drawing was a quickie so I didn’t bother to add real details and shine to the blood but if you want to make it look chunkier you can thicken it by giving it a bit of a shadow.

So yeah, uh… I hope this helped somewhat. I’m still figuring stuff out myself. :)For the full size images please see my blood tag!

[galoogamelady]

All right, so after talking a bit more about this, I have collected some more thoughts of basic blood drawing:

For all your bloody needs.

[arts-and-drafts]

Your Boldness Stands Alone (Spider-Man!Tommy)

AO3 LINK

YES I'M PREDICTABLE I KNOW, I've nearly written 10k words for this fic in the span of like three days I need to be sedated /j (Title for this one comes from 'Little Lion Man' by Mumford and Sons >:])

CWs: Arachnophobia, mention/depiction of illness, minor emetophobia

-

Tommy wasn't scared of spiders.

His friends all thought he was a freak for it, and for that he vehemently stood up for them every chance he got. They were fuckin' cute! All those little legs, and they had four times the amount of normal eyes! Eyes are the window to the soul, you know, which meant spiders had so much soul. Eight eyes worth of soul.

The point is, Tommy wasn't scared of spiders, so his only reaction was to be pleasantly surprised when a spider he'd never seen before crawled up onto his hand when he was at the bug museum.

"Hey there, little guy!" Tommy cooed softly, slowly raising his hand to his face to get a better look. "You're gorgeous, aren't you?"

The spider was colored starkly red and white, with spindly black legs and a large abdomen. It was about the size of a half dollar, and froze in place on Tommy's hand when he moved.

"Oh, sorry, fella, I didn't mean to scare you." Tommy murmured, and took his eyes off of the arachnid to fish for his phone in his pocket. He found it easily, and clumsily unlocked it with one hand to open his camera app, keeping his other hand as still as possible.

"I'm just gonna take a little photo of you, and you can go about your way, little guy." Tommy assured gently, holding up his phone as close as he dared. The spider didn't react, so Tommy took that as an okay to push the shutter button.

Three things happened very quickly after that.

The first is that a flash of light erupted from Tommy's phone, surprising him and making him flinch.

The second was that the spider finally reacted to the stimulus, and in the way that wild creatures always do when they perceive a threat, which was to lash out and bite Tommy's hand.

The third was that Tommy yelped, and before his mind could catch up to his reflexes, he flung the spider off his hand as hard as he could.

" Shit! " Tommy balked and wildly looked around for the spider, his eyes starting to water from the pain already radiating from his hand.

He quickly zeroed in on the spider skittering away across the floor, its unusual coloring making it a stark target against the white tile floor. Tommy abandoned his group without a second's hesitation to chase after it.

It was just as he got close enough to leap and grab it (carefully, of course) that it disappeared under a boot with a ‘ squish ’.

"NO!" Tommy blurted out, a pang in his heart. That poor spider was just existing, it was Tommy's fault he scared it in the first place.

The boot jumped back at Tommy's outburst, confirming that the spider was now just a crumpled, gooey, white and red mess.

"Shit, what was that?" The owner of the boot spoke, and Tommy looked up to see a young man looking extremely concerned at Tommy's reaction.

"Oh, fuck, did I step on your bug?" The man asked in horror, taking a few steps back. Tommy turned away from the sad sight and sighed, his hand twitching as he registered the burning pain once again.

"No." He muttered, and halfway met the man's eyes. "Sorry. It was just a random spider."

"Well, still." The man scratched the back of his neck and winced down at the mess. "I didn't mean to. I know they're pretty important."

"...Yeah." Tommy agreed, slightly surprised. "Most people don't care about that." He remarked, and the man smiled lightly.

"Yeah, well. Not me!" He laughed awkwardly. "Uh, I'm Bill, by the way, I’m really sorry-"

Tommy opened his mouth to return the courtesy, but his teacher's voice rang out to interrupt him.

" Theseus! What on earth are you doing?"

Tommy winced. "Uh, sorry, I've gotta go. Nice to meet you." He added as an afterthought, and hurried away to his glaring teacher before Bill could reply.

"It's Tommy, ma'am." He said as soon as he was in earshot, gritting his teeth as his teacher just raised an eyebrow in response.

"I'll call you by your legal name, mister, and don't you talk back to me." She scolded, and a flash of anger tore through Tommy.

"I don't know what you're thinking, running off like that, but you're staying right here for the remainder of our trip, do you understand me?" She demanded, and Tommy glared at her. The pain in his hand was getting really distracting by now, and he absolutely wasn't in the mood to play nice with a teacher who wouldn't even call him by what he preferred.

"I need to call my dad." Tommy said in lieu of answering her rhetorical question, which was true. His hand was well and truly burning right now, and it was getting harder to think about anything else but the pain with every passing second.

His teacher scowled and opened her mouth to inevitably refuse him, but Tommy ignored her completely and stepped away to pull up Phil's contact with shaking hands.

…That was probably not good.

" Theseus Innit!! " His teacher seethed, but Phil picked up the phone right at the moment, so Tommy once again turned away from her.

"Tommy? What's up?" Phil asked, concern already apparent in his voice, which was fair. Tommy only really called him from school if something was wrong.

"Heeeyyy, Phil." Tommy said, suddenly very aware of how sweaty he was. How was he sweaty? He felt all shivery and shit all of the sudden, that didn't make any sense.

"Uh, so we're at the bug museum, right? And uh..." Tommy flinched as his hand panged with burning fire. "I don't feel good."

Phil would make a huge scene if he found out Tommy got bit while at the museum. Like full Karen levels of fury. Tommy was pretty sure the spider didn't even come from one of the exhibits, but he didn't want the poor staff to witness the wrath of Philza at his full 'mumma bird', as Wilbur called it.

No, Tommy just wanted to be picked up and sleep off the bite.

"Do you need somebody to come get you?" Phil asked, his worry creeping in over the phone, and Tommy nodded. "Er, uh, yeah. Please." He added weakly, and he heard Phil take a sharp breath.

"I'm on my way. Ten minutes, okay?" Phil assured, and Tommy breathed a sigh of relief that almost turned him dizzy. "You're the best, Phil, you deserve all the wives you have."

"Just the one." Phil corrected fondly, and Tommy heard the tinny sound of car keys jingling through the phone. "Find a place to sit down, I'm coming."

"Thanks," Tommy said, and hung up right as his teacher stormed up to him.

" Detention , Theseus." She hissed, and grabbed his arm tight, making him grunt when her nails jabbed into his bicep. "Hey—let go of me!"

He tried to pull out of her grasp, but she was tough for an old lady and didn't budge. "My dad's coming to get me, let go!" 

He pulled again, harder, and this time he broke free, but the world spun around him and his vision went dark.

He opened his eyes looking up at the ceiling, even though he could've sworn he was on his feet a second ago.

"Tommy!" The concerned face of his friend Eryn appeared in Tommy's vision. "Holy shit, are you okay?!"

Tommy ignored the question to look directly at his teacher, attempting to glare the best he could through his swimming vision. "My dad's gonna sue the shit out of you."

He then promptly passed out.

-

"Phiiiil, I'm hungry ."

Phil turned from cleaning the counter to Tommy, eyeing the nearly full bowl of soup broth on the coffee table. Tommy himself was confined to the couch where Phil could keep an eye on him easier, and he was making it his dad's problem.

"You shouldn't eat anything solid until your stomach has settled." Phil said for the eighth time in two hours, ever patient. Tommy huffed and threw his head back dramatically. 

"Nobody loves me anymore." he lamented. "Me! Tommy Innit! What a cruel world this has turned out to be."

He could practically feel Phil's flat stare. "You'd think you'd feel better based on all your chatting." He commented, and Tommy froze.

"Oh?" Phil noticed, and Tommy cringed. Dammit. Shit fuck wank. 

"Tommy, have you been playing sick so you can get doted on more?" Phil deadpanned, and Tommy sheepishly raised his head to grin at him. "Er...no, Philza Minecraft, I would never. I've never lied in my life."

Phil let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, something he did when he was exasperated but not furious, so Tommy was still in the clear.

"Figures." Phil sighed, and carefully collected Tommy's bowl of broth. "Glad you're feeling better, mate." 

Tommy brightened. "You're still gonna get me food?" He asked hopefully. Phil snorted. "No. You can do that yourself, now that you're all better."

"Oh, Phil!" Tommy wailed, throwing his head back again. "You're the cruelest father I've ever known!"

"Now I know that's not true." Phil retorted with a smile in his voice, and Tommy heard the sink turn on. He let out a weary sigh and pulled out his phone, scrolling in his contacts until he came across the name 'Wilby Poo'.

"Tommy?" Wilbur picked up on the first ring, concern that he'd never admit out loud in his voice. Tommy cleared his throat.

"Wil," he croaked as pitifully as he could. "Phil's committing child neglect."

"I am not, you shit!" Phil called from the kitchen, and Tommy heard Wilbur shift on the other end of the phone. "Are you calling me from upstairs?"

"Well, I didn't feel like getting up, Wil." Tommy reasoned, and he heard Wilbur sigh. "So you called to complain to me? I can't make Dadza do what you want." 

"Oh, but you're the favorite , Wilby." Tommy protested, putting on his best 'weak little orphan' voice. Wilbur paused.

"Okay, you're definitely trying to bribe me." He said, and Tommy squawked in indignation. "I am not!" 

"You only say I'm the favorite when you bribe." Wilbur said. Fuck. Shit.

"I'll be quiet for an entire hour." Tommy offered, abandoning the act. Phil let out a cackle from the kitchen.

Wilbur hummed over the phone. "Not good enough. You'll be quiet every time you enter my room." 

"Forever?!" Tommy gasped. 

"Yep." Wilbur confirmed, not missing a beat. Tommy stuttered for words.

"Wh—how am I supposed to tell you things?!" Tommy demanded.

"This seems to be working for you just fine." Wilbur answered smugly.

Tommy mulled over the deal in his head. Did he really want Wilbur to dote on him more than he liked talking?

...Yeah, that was a fair trade.

"Deal." Tommy said.

"I'll be right up." Wilbur replied, and hung up on him. Tommy pulled his phone away from his ear and scowled at it. Prick.

His eye was drawn from his phone to the back of his hand, where the spider had bitten him. Where there used to be a jawbreaker-sized lump on the back of his hand that almost had him giving in to telling Phil about it and begging for a hospital, all that remained was two shiny pin prick scars that he had to squint to even notice.

It'd not even been a full day since he got bit, but throwing up more than he ever had in his life and passing out for fourteen hours straight seemed to fix him right up.

Tommy tried to reverse image search the photo he took of the spider to figure out what kind it was, but the accidental flash pretty much covered the entire arachnid in unnatural light, rendering the picture nearly incomprehensible. The research he'd done on his own to try and find the spider was also unsuccessful; every red and white spider he managed to find didn't look like the one that bit him.

Eventually, he decided to let it be. The bite didn't kill him, so there was nothing else to worry about.

"What do you want, child?" Wilbur announced his presence from the stairwell. Tommy flopped his head over the arm of the couch again and glared at him. "You hung up on me." He pouted.

"Going once." Wilbur deadpanned in response, and crossed his arms. Tommy let out a long dramatic sigh.

"Bring me a Coke, bitch." Tommy ordered, pointing at the kitchen, and he saw a muscle tense in Wilbur's jaw. He grinned saccharinely in response. 

Wilbur turned without a word and opened the fridge, rooting around inside for a few seconds before he straightened and chucked a can right at Tommy's head.

Tommy yelped and shot upright, somehow managing to catch the can with lightning speed before it hit the couch.

Phil let out a low whistle. "I guess you really are feeling better!" He noted. Tommy grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Wilbur, who rolled his eyes.

"Anything else, your highness?" Wilbur asked. Tommy tapped a finger on his chin exaggeratedly. "Hmm, how about some biscuits for your dear brother?"

"You are not dear." Wilbur muttered as he turned back to the kitchen. "And don't say that, I'll cry."

Tommy's shit-eating grin softened into something more genuine. Wilbur was such a fuckin' softie. It'd been almost ten years since Tommy was adopted into the family, and Wilbur still got teary-eyed whenever the word 'brother' was brought up.

The reminiscent thought was cut short by a packet of biscuits flying towards his head.

Tommy's arm shot up and caught it an inch from his face before he even registered that anything was flying at him. He gawked at his arm, shock spinning in his brain.

"Holy shit! Did you see that?!" He exclaimed, lowering his arm to stare at the packet of biscuits in awe. Wilbur huffed.

"I'm now going to make it my mission to throw shit at you." Wilbur promised, trying and failing to keep the surprise off his face. Tommy grinned ear to ear.

"Try it, bitch." He challenged, jutting his chin at his older brother. Wilbur narrowed his eyes.

"Hey, hey." Phil intervened right as Wilbur grabbed another pack of biscuits to chuck. "If you're gonna fight, take it outside, I just cleaned."

"My bet is on Tommy." Techno's low monotone announced him from the hallway, dragging a punching bag behind him like it weighed nothing.

Tommy smugly beamed in Wilbur's direction. "Hear that, Wil-bitch?" 

Wilbur glared at Techno as the oldest brother moved towards his room. "We've literally sparred together since we were little. Why would Tommy win?"

"He's feral." Techno shrugged, seeming indifferent, but Tommy caught the glitter of amusement in his eyes. "Tommy's not afraid to bite."

"Nope!" Tommy agreed proudly, putting his hands on his hips and baring his teeth at Wilbur. His older brother still looked offended.

" Please , Tommy can barely throw a punch." Wilbur rolled his eyes, and Tommy's mouth opened in offense. "I can too!" 

" Boys ," Phil interrupted, fondly exasperated. "If you're gonna fight all day, take-"

" 'Take it outside' ." Tommy, Wilbur and Techno finished in unison. All three of them cracked a smile at their synchrony.

"Fuckin’—yeah." Phil added lamely, abruptly turning back to the clean sink as if to busy himself. Tommy snorted, and that made Techno bark a laugh. Even Wilbur had to tamper down a giggle.

"You feelin' alright, Tommy?" Techno changed the subject, his eyes meeting his little brother's.

Tommy replied by flexing. Before, he did so to make his friends laugh, since he was all skin and bone. Now, though, Techno's eyebrows raised in surprise.

Tommy followed his gaze to his bicep, and was shocked to see lean, lithe muscles where his lanky arm used to be. He blinked several times.

"I...guess so." Tommy finally answered, thoroughly unnerved. He was positive he didn't have those muscles yesterday. He would've bragged to everyone he knew if he did.

Spurred by a new urgency, Tommy practically leapt off the sofa, surprising his brothers even further. 

"I have to poo." He lied. "Big one. Like, the biggest shi-"

"Fuck's sake, just go!" Phil cried from the kitchen, disgust emanating off his tone. Tommy uttered a laugh that was more nervousness than mirth and ran to the bathroom.

He slammed the door behind him and locked it for good measure, though he knew nobody in his family would dare follow him in fear of the carnage of one of Tommy's Signature World-Breaking Shits. 

(Eryn came up with that one, way back in primary school. Tommy remembered laughing so hard that he discovered he had asthma through the resulting attack. It was still a good memory despite that.)

Tommy shook his head free of his thoughts, and leaned forward on the sink to take a good long look at himself in the mirror.

...Yep. Still Tommy. His face was the same, as was his hair and eyes, and the little scar under his left eye. Tommy didn't really know what he was expecting, but was relieved that nothing changed.

His eyes trailed down his shoulder, and he lifted his sleeve. 

Same crazy muscles.

Tommy flexed again in the mirror, for real this time, and his eyes bugged out of his head when his arm responded with an impressive show. Tommy pressed the fingers of his other hand to his arm, recoiling at the rock hard muscle that met resistance immediately.

What the fuck .

Tommy slowly lifted his shirt, stepping back a little to see his torso fully in the mirror. Like his arm, where there was once the body of a skinny seventeen-year-old was now incredibly toned. He had a fucking six pack. 

Okay. He was really fucking freaked out now.

Tommy let go of his shirt, and it didn't leave his hands.

"Wh..." Tommy whispered, gawking at his shirt still clinging to his palms despite nothing keeping it there. He gave his hands a little shake, and his shirt still stuck fast.

Fuck, what did he spill on himself? Superglue?

Tommy tried to wrench his hands free, and he tore his shirt off in one smooth motion like the fabric was made of tissue paper.

Tommy stood dumbly in silence, staring at his shirt tatters still sticking to his hands, before a laugh bubbled up in his throat.

It escaped with a loud wheeze, and soon Tommy was doubled over from the absurdity of the situation. Realizing that he was bent over crying with laughter in his bathroom, shirtless, only made him laugh harder.

Tommy tried to stifle his laughter when he heard a knock at the door.

"Uh, Tommy?" Techno's muffled voice sounded through the wood. "Do you need your inhaler?"

His brother sounded extremely awkward. Tommy took a deep breath to fight off another bout of laughter, and his shirt tatters finally fell from his hands.

...Huh. 

"Yeah, uh-" Tommy replied absently. "Can you get me a new shirt?"

There was a painfully long silence on the other side of the door.

"...I don't wanna know." Techno said, and Tommy heard his footsteps leave the door.

Tommy laughed to himself and turned back to the mirror, his smile falling as he looked at himself again.

What the fuck. 

-

Things only got weirder from there as the day progressed.

The weird sticking continued, even after Tommy washed his hands multiple times and scrubbed so hard that his palms were raw. Any time he got even a little heightened with any emotion, he could count on sticking to something. 

It was getting really fucking annoying.

"Come on." Tommy struggled in his room, using the pressure of his heel on his blanket and pulling his hand as hard as he could in the other direction.

Like his fallen shirt from before, the blanket ripped clean in half like it was as tough as a wet paper towel. Tommy sighed in frustration, thoroughly pissed.

Great. Just another thing to fucking fix.

He didn't mind sewing things up, but it was increasingly hard to do when his fingers wouldn't stop sticking . 

Tommy closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose to quell his rising anger. The blanket peeled off of his hand as soon as he did so, finally obeying gravity.

... Huh . 

Experimentally, Tommy picked up his spare hoodie off the floor. As expected, when he opened his hand, it didn't move.

Tommy took another deep, relaxing breath, his eyes not leaving the hoodie. Like the blanket, it finally unstuck from his hand and fell to the floor as soon as he did.

Tommy grinned. He finally got this figured out. The secret was to relax.

Feeling thoroughly relieved, Tommy went to his closet and reached for the handle to get his sewing supplies.

The wooden knob broke into splinters under his grip. 

-

It took an embarrassingly long time (and several broken things) for Tommy to re-learn how to hold things without crushing them into dust.

Because, apparently , in addition to the sticking, he had fucking super strength . If he hadn't literally just folded one of Phil's kitchen pans like it was origami, he wouldn't believe himself either.

(Said ruined pan was hidden underneath Tommy's pile of laundry, at the moment, next to the wood chips that used to be his closet door handle and the other broken things he'd amassed. Phil would be monumentally pissed if he found out.)

To try and get his thoughts in order, Tommy took to his desk, pencil in hand. He made sure to hold it like glass, because it pretty much was to him now.

The blank notebook in front of him stared accusingly at him.

Tommy took another deep breath and started writing.

Powers; 

Tommy scribbled that out immediately. That made the situation sound unreal. This was happening, whether he wanted it to or not.

He tried again.

Abilities; 

...Still too comic book-y. He scribbled that out too.

Symptoms; 

Well, fuck, that sounded morbid, but it was the most accurate descriptor so far.  Tommy kept it and moved to the next line, making a bullet point.

Sticky

He quickly scribbled that out. Gross.

Unnatural clinging

Yeah, that sounded much better. Scientific, even. Tommy was so smart.

He moved on to the next bullet point.

Unusual strength

...And he had nothing else to add. This might have actually been a waste of time.

Tommy thought back to the instinct that let him catch the Coke can and biscuit pack that Wilbur threw at him. The can could've been luck, sure, but the biscuits? Tommy caught those without even trying. He didn't even know they were coming for him until he already caught them.

Was that a power?

(He corrected himself. Symptom. These were things that were happening to him, things he was scared of and didn't want. He wasn't some superhero or anything.)

Well, twice was a coincidence, but thrice was a pattern, or whatever Wilbur said. Tommy (carefully) got out of his chair and left his room, beelining for downstairs.

Weirdly, he hoped Wilbur was serious about throwing things at him. It would make the whole 'caught off guard' thing a lot easier for testing.

Tommy made his way downstairs and to his brother's bedroom, tentatively knocking on the door. He heard movement from inside, and took a step back as Wilbur opened the door.

"What do you want, child." Wilbur asked, peering at him with suspicion over his round glasses. Tommy frowned at him and crossed his arms.

"What, not gonna throw anything at me?" He taunted. Wilbur narrowed his eyes.

"You really want to play that game?" He asked dangerously. Tommy raised an eyebrow at him in challenge.

"Do it, pussy." Tommy goaded with an overconfident grin, and that was all it took.

Tommy's hand caught the thing flying at his face before he even realized anything was coming at him. Wilbur's mouth opened in shock as Tommy registered he was gripping his brother's wrist .

"You were gonna hit me in the face!" Tommy gasped, furrowing his brows at his stunned brother. Wilbur only gawked at him.

"How...how did you do that?" Wilbur asked faintly. Tommy frowned and let go of his hand, thankful in hindsight that he already got used to his new strength so he didn't crush all of Wilbur's wrist bones by accident.

"...I don't know." Tommy answered truthfully. "Weird shit's been goin' on, Wil."

His tone must've been more vulnerable than he tried to let on, because his brother's face instantly changed.

Wilbur opened his bedroom door fully, and stepped back, gesturing with his head to come in. Tommy raised an eyebrow.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "You can talk in here." He sighed, exasperated. "Just this once."

Tommy grinned and finally accepted his brother's invite.

Wilbur shut the door behind them as Tommy looked around.

He hadn't been in Wilbur's room a lot, just plainly because it wasn't his own room and Wilbur liked his privacy. That said, it looked the exact same as Tommy remembered it last time he actually had a reason to go in there.

Fairy lights were strung up along the walls, illuminating the room with a soft yellow light in replacement of the sun hidden behind blackout curtains. Wilbur's bed was an absolute mess, unmade and practically serving as another space to hold all of Wilbur's junk instead of a place to sleep.

Papers cluttered Wilbur's desk, different stacks held down by various paperweights that didn't belong with the ‘antique aesthetic’ of his space, since he’d collected them from all over. Tommy smiled in particular at one paperweight, a wood-carved sheep.

He got it for Wilbur's birthday, way back when Tommy was still new to their family. He didn't know if Wilbur would like it, and he agonized for weeks after buying it before he finally managed to give it to his new brother.

He still remembered Wilbur's face when he unwrapped it. He looked at it like it was made of gold.

Wilbur brought him back to the present by moving to his bed to clear some space for Tommy to sit next to him. Tommy obliged, and took a second to gather his thoughts.

"What's going on with you, Tommy?" Wilbur asked gently. Tommy took a breath.

"Uh, some... weird shit has been happening." Tommy started, keeping his eyes on his clasped hands. "With me?"

Wilbur tensed next to him. "Oh, Christ." 

Tommy looked up with furrowed brows, feeling a spark of defensiveness at his brother's tone. "What?"

Wilbur looked increasingly uncomfortable. "I don't—I'm not the right person to talk to about this, Tommy." He said stiffly. Tommy blinked at him before he realized what had made his brother all weird.

"Oh! Oh, no, it's not fuckin’—Wil, I'm seventeen ," Tommy stammered, his face flushing. "I went through that shit already!"

Wilbur eyed him hesitantly. "Are...you sure?" He asked awkwardly. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Fuck's sake, yes." Tommy assured. "This isn't puberty."

Wilbur visibly deflated with relief. "Okay, thank God. I did not know how I was gonna do that conversation."

Tommy snorted, despite himself, and shook his head. "You're a fuckin' moron."

"Hey! I'm well within my right to kick you out, you know." Wilbur reprimanded, mercilessly ruffling Tommy's hair, who yelped. " Oi! Cut that shit out!" 

He batted Wilbur's hand away from him, and his fingers caught on his brother's jumper sleeve. Tommy froze.

His own clothes were one thing, but he didn't want to ruin Wilbur's favorite sweater.

Wilbur must've noticed his face drop, because he stilled as well, his eyes flicking to where Tommy's fingers were clinging to his sweater. 

"What the—did you spill juice on your hands or something?" Wilbur asked, his tone still light with teasing. Tommy took a breath and closed his eyes, and his hand freed itself from his brother's jumper.

"Er...no." Tommy said, suddenly self conscious again. He crossed his arms and stared at Wilbur's messy floor.

"That's the shit that's been goin' on." Tommy explained. "I keep--I keep sticking to shit. And breaking things."

Tommy glanced up at Wilbur. "Don't tell Dadza." He ordered, attempting to beam his seriousness into his brother's brain. Wilbur blinked at him in response.

"What do you mean 'sticking to shit'?" He asked, raising his hands to make air quotes. Tommy looked around in lieu of answering, his eyes landing on a random poetry book on Wilbur's desk.

"Like this." Tommy said, and reached for the book, intentionally only pressing his palm and fingers on the cover. When he lifted his arm, the book cover firmly stuck to his hand, falling open with gravity.

Tommy turned to Wilbur, raising the book hand and gesturing. His brother had furrowed his brows as he stared.

"...You probably just spilled something on your hands, Tommy." Wilbur finally said, his tone a tad exasperated. Tommy felt a flash of annoyance.

"Wh— no!  I washed my hands like fifteen times!" Tommy argued. He took a breath, and the book dropped from his hand, landing on the floor with a loud ‘ thud’ that made Wilbur jump.

Despite that, he still looked unimpressed.

"What about when I caught your hand, huh? Or the Coke? The biscuits?" Tommy needled, a prickle of real worry seeping into his mind.

He wasn't crazy, was he? No , definitely not! Wilbur was just being a skeptical bitch boy like he always was.

"It's not out of the realm of possibility for somebody to have good reflexes, Tommy." Wilbur crossed his arms in that snooty way that made Tommy furious.

“Fine, dickhead, check this out.” Tommy snapped, jumping up to smack his palm on the ceiling.

Predictably, Tommy just hung there, glaring at Wilbur, who gaped like a fish.

“W-what-“ Wilbur stammered, getting to his feet and adjusting his glasses as he stepped forward, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

“How are you doing that?” He asked, his voice faintly awed. Tommy breathed in through his nose, unsticking from the ceiling and dropping to his feet.

“I don’t know , Wil, that’s why I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” Tommy huffed. Wilbur stared at him like he was finally seeing him.

Wilbur took Tommy’s hand to stare at it, running a finger experimentally over Tommy’s palm. “ Woah . It feels like—you know burrs? Plant burrs?”

“It does?” Tommy asked, curiously looking closer at his hand. He didn’t notice it feeling prickly like that—though, he guessed he wouldn’t, if it was his own skin.

“Come—c’mere,” Wilbur dragged Tommy over to his desk by his wrist, making Tommy stumble and swear. But Wilbur didn’t falter, shoving junk on his desk to pull over his antique microscope that he had vehemently told Tommy to not even breathe on in the past because of how ‘fragile’ it was.

It must not have been that fragile, because Wilbur pressed Tommy’s hand under the lens palm-up and peered through the eyepiece, his hands coming up to the old dials on the side of the ancient machine to carefully zoom in. “Don’t move."

Tommy huffed impatiently, but his curiosity won out over his annoyance, so he stayed put as Wilbur silently configured the old machine to look closely at Tommy’s hand.

“...Woah,” Wilbur eventually said, and Tommy paled. “What? What is it?”

“I don’t…know,” Wilbur mumbled, lifting his head to frown quizzically at Tommy. “It looks like a bunch of…like, I dunno, hairs?” 

“Hair?” Tommy’s mouth parted in confusion, and he shoved Wilbur out of the way to look into the microscope’s eyepiece, ignoring his brother’s indignantly offended noise.

Tommy narrowed his eyes, and the microscope’s image came into focus, revealing exactly what Wilbur described—he saw his fingerprints, his pores, and now tiny little hairs sprouted all over the underside of his hand.

“Wh—wait, I know this!” Tommy gasped, pulling away from the microscope to whip out his phone (which somehow survived his bout of getting used to his new strength). He googled at the speed of light—he couldn’t remember the scientific name of it, but those little hairs looked just like a spider’s-

“Scopulae?” Wilbur squinted at Tommy’s phone screen, taking it from his hand and reading over the wikipedia article Tommy had pulled up. “Like—the hairs on spider feet-?”

“Yeah, it looks just like-!” Tommy’s words left his brain as the realization hit him like a brick.

…Waaait a fucking minute. 

“I got bit by a spider,” Tommy realized aloud, and Wilbur reeled.

“What? What kind?” His brother immediately badgered, his eyes going wide and concerned.

“I don’t—I don’t know, it was red and white-” Tommy stared down at his hands with wide eyes, all the pieces clicking together in his head. Enhanced senses, clinging, super strength—holy fuck, that was—that was everything a spider could do-!

Did he have fucking spider powers?! 

“Am I gonna shit webs?” Tommy blurted, and Wilbur blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“Is that actually your concern right now?!” Wilbur asked back, his voice pitched higher. “Tommy, you fucking—oh my God, is that why you were so sick?! Are you dying?!”

“No, I’m not-” Tommy quickly said. “I’m fine! Wil, I’m—you actually wouldn’t believe how fine I am, this is-!”

A shaky smile started to grow on his face, and he raised his eyes to the ceiling. Wilbur seemed to realize what he was thinking as soon as Tommy thought of it.

“Tommy, don’t you fucking dare-” Wilbur started, his voice taking on the ‘Dadza tone’, as Tommy liked to call it, but Tommy had already made up his mind.

He leapt for the ceiling, and Wilbur yelped a swear and stumbled back as Tommy planted his bare feet and hands on the ceiling and hung there. 

Tommy laughed, almost hysterically pitched. “Holy fucking shit! Wil, I’m a fuckin’ spider!!” 

“Get off my goddamn ceiling, you menace!” Wilbur scolded back, and Tommy felt a strange tingle in the back of his brain. He reacted to it on complete instinct, pressing up against the ceiling just in time for Wilbur’s hand to miss grabbing him.

“H-how did you-” Wilbur was again dumbfounded, just like when Tommy caught his hand in the hallway. Tommy cackled at the look on Wilbur’s face, his hair obeying gravity and falling from their normally messy curls as he looked down at his brother upside-down.

“Don’t fuck with Spider-Boy, bitch!” Tommy crowed, focusing back on his stuck hands and feet. After a second to figure out the breathing thing, he started slowly crawling across the ceiling of Wilbur’s room, his smile getting wider and wider. This was fucking rad!! 

“Jesus, you fucking Exorcist child-!” Wilbur cried, and Tommy laughed again. “Get your fucking feet off my ceiling!!”

“Fine,” Tommy dropped his feet from the ceiling to hang rightside-up from his palms, smirking at his both annoyed and stunned brother.

“I can’t believe—how are you not losing your mind?!” Wilbur asked desperately. “You can fucking crawl on the ceiling!”

“I know!” Tommy grinned at Wilbur. “I have fucking spider powers!” 

“How do you have spider powers?!” Wilbur bunched his hands in his brown curls, staring in shock and a bit of real panic. Tommy tried to shrug, though it was a bit hard to do so when hanging from his arms.

“I dunno, I got bit by one at the museum-” Tommy said, and Wilbur blanched.

“You idiot child, why didn’t you tell anybody?!” Wilbur’s voice had practically gone up an octave. “What if that killed you?!”

Tommy tried to stick his bare feet in Wilbur’s face to get that expression off his brother, and Wilbur choked out a disgusted noise and smacked his feet away.

“It didn’t kill me, I’m fine!” Tommy swung his feet back up, doing a pull-up crunch with ease, holy shit, to plant his feet on Wilbur’s ceiling again and this time hang by his feet, just for the purpose of pissing Wilbur off. Just like his hands, they held firm against the plaster, as easily as his gravity having literally just flipped an axis, if it weren’t for his hair and the bottom of his shirt dangling down.

Wilbur’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Do you—do you have a goddamn six-pack?!” 

Tommy looked down (up?) at himself. “Oh, yeah! I’m strong as shit, now, I told you!” He made upside-down eye contact with Wilbur again to smugly wiggle his eyebrows, flexing his arms again. “Now I can definitely kick your ass, Wil-bitch!”

Wilbur just stood there with his mouth open, stunlocked. Tommy felt proud of himself—it wasn’t very often that he managed to render Wilbur speechless. That’s what Wilbur got for being a bitch and doubting him like that.

“Tommy, you—you can’t tell anybody about this,” Wilbur finally said, faintly, and Tommy’s smile slipped off his face.

“Well, duh , I’m not gonna tell Phil, he’d probably lay an egg.” Tommy said, and Wilbur vehemently shook his head.

“No—no, Tommy, I mean nobody . You—not Eryn, not Tubbo, not Ranboo-” Wilbur quickly said, and Tommy’s face shifted to dismay.

“What?! Why not? This is cool as fuck!” Tommy complained, and Wilbur growled out a helpless noise and pushed his hair back, his eyes looking his upside-down little brother over again.

“Tommy, do you have any idea what would happen to you if somebody found out about this?! The—the fucking government would snatch you up in a heartbeat and-!” Wilbur started to stammer, and Tommy’s face fell.

“...Oh,” He uttered, belatedly. He…he hadn’t thought of that. Wilbur nodded with wide eyes, like Tommy was stupid.

“Yes, ‘oh’! Fuck, Tommy, this-” Wilbur gestured to Tommy hanging from his feet from the ceiling. “This is insane! I’ve never seen-” He made more incoherent noises, and Tommy scowled.

“Alright, Wil, I won’t tell anybody!” Tommy huffed, effortlessly bending to stick his hands to the ceiling again to right himself and then hop down. He wasn’t even dizzy or lightheaded or anything that usually happened when he hung upside-down for a long time.

“I mean it, Tommy, you-” Wilbur grabbed Tommy’s shoulders as soon as he was on the ground again, his eyes uncharacteristically serious as he looked into Tommy’s. “You can’t. I—I have no fucking idea how this happened, but you have to lay low with this, okay?”

Tommy was taken aback by Wilbur’s almost frantic concern. He knew Wil was a softie under there, but, damn…he was acting like some truck would come scoop Tommy up and carry him away forever, like Tommy wouldn’t bite every bitch that dared try to do that.

“I–” Tommy’s hesitation must’ve shown on his face, because Wilbur’s grip tightened on his shoulders.

“Promise, Tommy. Promise me,” Wilbur said sternly. Tommy searched his brother’s stern yet worried gaze, and sighed.

“...I promise, Wil.”

[arts-and-drafts]

Someone New - Chapter Two

Read Chapter One HERE / AO3 LINK

CWs: Minor violence (typical of the show)

-

Adrien noticed pretty quickly that Ladybug was acting very different with this version of him.

She stuttered over herself, her body language nervous and fidgety. Adrien almost sent her falling off a roof when Catwalker called her ‘honey’, picked up once again from Felicity, in lieu of ‘my lady’.

That, and Ladybug was so… blushy , in a way Adrien had never seen before.

Was it that jarring, working with someone other than Chat Noir? It made Adrien feel a bit smug, that Ladybug was so off her game without the him that she was used to, a small modicum of satisfaction that he selfishly squirreled away deep in his mind.

“C-Catwalker, um-!” Ladybug called after her, hastily landing on the rooftop when she paused. “What—where, um, I mean—“

Ladybug was red again, pulling on the string of her yo-yo in a nervous fidget. “How did Plagg find you?”

Catwalker blinked. Ah, damn, she’d have to make up a story…

“Isn’t it against the rules to share any personal details, Ladybug?” She opted to ask back, smirking a little. She couldn’t resist teasing her lady, in this nervous state she’d never seen before.

Ladybug turned even redder. “It is!! It absolutely is, I just-!” She cleared her throat.

“I-I’ve just never seen someone like you before, that’s all,” Ladybug said, wincing at herself. Catwalker huffed a small but real laugh.

“Like me?” She tilted her head, her expression playful, and that sent Ladybug stammering again.

“N-nevermind, just forget it-!” Ladybug threw her yo-yo and launched away in the blink of an eye, leaving Catwalker to follow with her line of sight.

Adrien felt a strange feeling in his chest, as Catwalker raced to catch up. For some reason…he liked hearing that.

Someone like you. 

-

Their time “getting to know each other”—a moot point, since Adrien already knew Ladybug, but he had to play along—was cut short by an earthquake that shook the roof they were standing on.

Catwalker grabbed onto Ladybug to keep her steady on complete instinct, and Ladybug’s breath caught.

“Akuma?” Catwalker asked, her eyes and ears swiveling around to catch sight of evidence of Hawkmoth. Ladybug stuttered.

“H-huh? Oh, oh, yes! An akuma!” Ladybug shook her head, and for the first time since Catwalker met her, she looked like that confident superhero Adrien knew.

“Come on!”

Catwalker leapt after Ladybug, keeping up with her as she swung through the Parisian streets towards—well, presumably the source of all this, though Adrien still had no idea how Ladybug managed to find the villain of the week so quickly like that.

They rounded the corner of the Montparnasse area, to see a giant akuma of a black cat toy using the Tour Montparnasse as a scratching post. Ladybug gasped in horror.

“No, Chat Noir, stop!” Ladybug cried as they came closer, startling Catwalker. “This is ridiculous!”

“You think that’s Chat Noir?” Catwalker asked, failing to keep the incredulousness out of her tone as the two of them dodged a swipe from the akuma cat’s giant claws, sprinting away from the beast.

“Of course it’s Chat Noir!” Ladybug replied, her eyes wide and distressed. “He must’ve been akumatized because he regrets having given up his Miraculous!”

Catwalker hesitated as she ran, glancing to meet Ladybug’s eyes.

“What if it’s not Chat Noir?” She posited, as vaguely as she could without outright telling Ladybug that she knew for a fact the akuma wasn’t her ‘old’ partner.

“Leave this to me, Catwalker,” Ladybug commanded, that determined look on her face that made Adrien fall in love over and over. “I know him really well.”

The akuma then smacked Ladybug into the Tour Montparnasse hard enough to crack the glass in a radius, and Catwalker gasped. “Ladybug!” 

The cat akuma slammed a massive paw down on Ladybug, pinning her to the skyscraper. Ladybug only barely managed to catch the akuma’s massive claws before they tore into her, though she was obviously struggling with the akuma’s size and strength.

“I’m sorry, Chat Noir!” Ladybug cried, her expression tight and distressed as her arms shook from trying to hold the akuma back. “I didn’t realize how broken-hearted you were over this!”

The akuma, predictably, didn’t react to Ladybug’s pleading. Catwalker leapt for her lady, slamming into her and getting her out of the way right before the akuma’s other paw crushed her.

Catwalker managed to roll both of them behind a column and out of sight of the akuma, holding Ladybug to her chest as she watched the akuma run off in the opposite direction to search for them.

Catwalker breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to Ladybug, who had gone very red again. “If that was Chat Noir, don’t you think he’d talk to you?”

Ladybug seemed to shake her head, like she was trying to refocus.

“I-it's true, he usually does talk a lot more—he must be really upset that I found someone to take his place!” Ladybug fretted, her hands holding her face in distress. Catwalker tried very hard not to let her expression fall into a deadpan look.

She instead peered around the column again to watch the akuma, which was idly scratching its ear now that it had nobody to chase. Her eyes were pulled to a slot on the akuma’s back.

“With that slot on his back, he looks more like a piggy bank, don’t you think?” She pointed out, and Ladybug started running back towards the giant akuma.

“You’ll see when we de-akumatize him!” She called as she ran. “Cataclysm his bell, I’m sure that’s where the akuma is!”

“Hang on!” Catwalker called in a panic, sprinting after Ladybug. “Ladybug, what if that’s a sentimonster? If I use my power on him, he’ll lose control and become more dangerous!”

Ladybug gasped and skidded to a stop. “You’re right! Wow, Plagg took his job as a coach seriously-”

She then shook her head. “But trust me, I know Chat Noir-”

Catwalker sighed and rolled her eyes. They didn’t have time to argue about this! 

She sprinted towards the giant akuma, even though Ladybug called after her in a panic. “H-hey, what are you doing?!”

“Here, kitty-kitty!” Catwalker called, leaping up to run along the edge of a rooftop in the akuma’s line of sight. “Meow-meow, kitty!”

The akuma yowled and leapt after her, but she was just fast enough to stay ahead of the beast while she looked around for-

There! 

Catwalker leapt off a roof and landed in a roll on a patch of grass in one of Paris’ parks, looking it over. This would work. 

“Meow, meow, meow!” Catwalker called, as the giant akuma thundered into view. “Pspspsps, that’s right, come here~!”

The akuma pounced into the park and reeled back to slam a paw down on Catwalker, but paused when it noticed her purring and miming eating the grass. “Mmm, smells good!”

Just as Catwalker hoped, the akuma paused, before it started to eat giant clumps of the grass. Catwalker got back to her feet and backed away, until she could leap up to the rooftop Ladybug landed on.

“What’s he doing?” Ladybug asked confusedly, watching the akuma with pinched brows.

“Cats sometimes eat grass. It helps them spit up hairballs,” Catwalker answered, forgetting that most ‘normal’ people probably didn’t know in-depth trivia about cats like she did. Thankfully, though, Ladybug didn’t seem to pick up on that oddity.

“Chat Noir loves acting like a clown, but he wouldn’t go as far as to eat real grass!” Ladybug commented, wrinkling her nose. Catwalker winced, feeling both a little hurt and a little offended.

“I agree, honey.” She said smoothly, covering her reaction. “But we don’t know for sure if that’s a sentimonster or someone who’s been akumatized. We shouldn’t make any rash decisions.”

Catwalker watched as the giant akuma hacked a few times, and then ran off again, acting every part like an actual cat. “Let’s wait until we find out more, hm?”

Ladybug’s expression shifted to be crestfallen, and Catwalker hurriedly backpedaled.

“ If that’s alright with you, of course. You’re the Guardian, you know best,” Catwalker smiled at Ladybug, but that only seemed to make her lady more despairing.

“You were right from the start, of course that’s not Chat Noir!” Ladybug scowled at her hands.

“It’s understandable why you’d think that, my—honey,” Catwalker said, softer, nearly slipping up again in the face of her lady’s distress. Ladybug shook her head and threw her arms out in front of her.

“Yeah, but, hello! I just confused my former partner with a giant piggy bank! I didn’t see that he was hurt, and I couldn’t stop him from leaving, either!” Ladybug hung her head and closed her eyes. “I must be the worst Guardian ever-” 

“Stop,” Catwalker said, firmly, placing her hand on Ladybug’s shoulder and squeezing it. “I won’t have you talk about yourself that way, Ladybug.”

Ladybug’s breath caught, and she opened her eyes to look at Catwalker with a miserable expression. Catwalker met her eyes sternly, channeling that confidence and security in herself to keep up her character.

“You are the best hero this city has,” Catwalker said firmly, speaking from the heart. “And you’re allowed to make mistakes. Okay?”

She stood up, offering her hand to Ladybug. “Let’s just focus on fixing this. Just like you always do.” Her expression softened, and she winked down at Ladybug.

Her lady stared up at her, her blue eyes wide and cheeks flushed. God, she was so beautiful. 

Catwalker shook the thought from her mind. This wasn’t about her feelings for Ladybug. That’s what got her in this situation to begin with.

Ladybug slowly accepted Catwalker’s hand, and she pulled her lady to her feet.

“U-uh…thanks,” Ladybug stammered, and Catwalker smiled.

“Don’t thank me, honey. Just doing my job as a partner to the best Guardian around.” Catwalker extended her other arm out towards the akuma, who was currently playing with the Roue de Paris like a giant hamster-ball toy. “Now, shall we?”

Ladybug smiled back, that determined glint back in her eye as they turned to the akuma wreaking havoc on Paris.

The two of them jumped towards the giant cat, who yowled and leapt for them as soon as it saw them, Catwalker and Ladybug splitting to avoid a blow from the akuma’s giant paw.

Ladybug threw her yo-yo to wrap around the akuma’s leg, but it just snarled and threw its paw back, sending Ladybug flying with a yelp. Catwalker grit her teeth and narrowed her eyes at the akuma, before noticing it had gotten distracted with emergency response helicopters that appeared to distract the akuma and help out their heroes.

Catwalker grinned, darting over to the distracted akuma and leaping up its massive body to snatch Ladybug’s yo-yo back where it hung off the cat’s leg. “Gotcha!”

She landed into a roll, effortlessly springing to her feet and dashing over to meet Ladybug from where she’d been tossed. “Here you are, honey.”

“T-thanks,” Ladybug stammered, accepting her yo-yo from Catwalker with a red face under her mask. “U-um—for charming—I mean-!”

“...Lucky Charm?” Catwalker guided, amused at the sight of Ladybug so nervous, though it concerned her a bit. Did Ladybug hit her head when she was tossed by the akuma?

“What?” Ladybug blinked up at Catwalker. Catwalker blinked back.

“Your…yo-yo?” She said, “For your Lucky Charm?”

“O-oh! Yes!” Ladybug nervously laughed. “Right!”

Ladybug tossed her yo-yo up in the air, the magical tool spinning in a mesmerizing dance of pink and red light. “Lucky Charm!” 

Her magic ladybugs materialized into a giant cloth that fell into her hands, and Ladybug got that analytical look in her eye that Adrien knew so well. “A parachute?”

Ladybug looked up, her brows furrowing as she took stock of her surroundings with this clue. Adrien loved when she did this—he could only dream of what went on in her beautiful mind.

Ladybug looked at Catwalker, then down at the parachute, and then at the giant cat akuma. Her eyes widened.

“Grass,” Ladybug mumbled under her breath. “I know what to do! Keep the kitty distracted until I get back!”

Catwalker grinned, nodding to Ladybug and splitting off from her right as the giant akuma got dangerously close to swatting one of the helping helicopters out of the night sky. Catwalker waved her arms to tell the helicopters to back up.

“Here, kitty~! Let’s have a little catfight, huh?” Catwalker sharply grinned, and she skidded on her heel as the akuma yowled and took off after her.

Catwalker was chased all over Paris, always a step ahead of the akuma-

Until she wasn’t.

She yelled as the akuma got a lucky shot on her when she turned a corner too narrowly, smacking her into a brick wall and dazing her for a few precious seconds.

The akuma took the opportunity, cornering Catwalker and raising its massive paw to bring it down on her-

And then the akuma’s attention was pulled by a sharp shot of a yo-yo smacking into the side of its head, the beast snapping its head towards the offender with a growl.

“Hey, kitty-kitty! Why don’t you take a snack break?!” Ladybug’s strong voice shouted, and Catwalker watched as her lady leapt into the air, swinging the parachute around, now full of something Catwalker couldn’t quite make out, and heaving it into the akuma’s mouth.

It was a direct shot, and the akuma swallowed the entire bundle, stumbling back and hacking as Ladybug landed beside her fallen partner to help Catwalker to her feet.

Catwalker gratefully accepted the help, wincing a little as the akuma finally coughed up the parachute, a load of cut grass, and a small child clinging to a piggy bank.

Ladybug gasped, and her and Catwalker sprinted to the kid.

“Could you please give me your piggy bank?” Ladybug asked gently, crouching down and holding out her hand. The child shied away from her, a scowl on her small face.

“No way!” She gripped the lucky-cat themed piggy bank tighter. “All the money I saved up to buy kitty toys for my cat is in here!”

Ladybug blinked and looked at the giant cat akuma/sentimonster, which looked a little sick. “Um… him?” 

The poor kid looked about to cry. “No, my cat’s ran away.” The girl sniffled. “So Shadow Moth promised he’d give me the biggest kitty in the world to replace him, but this cat is mean!” 

She started to hiccup through her words. “I want my kitty cat!”

Catwalker’s heart hurt for the poor kid, so she stepped back to look around while Ladybug consoled the girl, her ears pricking for any sound of a cat.

She leapt on top of a rooftop to better scope out the alleyways, her ear twisting when she heard the sound of a small mew.

Catwalker smiled as she saw a little black kitten with green eyes, a red collar, and a golden bell, just like the sentimonster, warily wandering the Parisian streets. She gracefully dropped down behind the kitten, crouching and offering her hand. “Pspsps, c’mere, little guy…”

Thankfully, the kitten seemed to like people, so with a ‘mrrp!’ and a friendly lift of the tail, he frolicked over and rubbed his head against Catwalker’s knuckles.

“Aww,” Catwalker cooed, smiling softly. “You’re a good kitty…come on, your girl misses you.”

The kitten didn’t protest as Catwalker scooped him up, just in time for Ladybug’s magic ladybugs to explode across the night sky, reversing all of the sentimonster’s damage. Catwalker smiled, and quickly leapt away to reconvene with her lady and the poor girl, keeping the kitten safe against her chest.

She easily landed a few feet away from Ladybug and the little girl, and the kid lit up like a lightbulb when she saw her kitten in Catwalker’s hold.

“My kitten!!” The girl cried, sprinting towards Catwalker, who smiled and easily let the girl scoop the kitten out of her arms and hug him.

Catwalker watched the girl play with her precious pet with a soft heart, looking at Ladybug as she came closer.

“You did good, honey.” Catwalker praised, and Ladybug smiled, her cheeks going that pretty red again. “So did you.”

“Shall we?” Catwalker offered her hand to the little girl, who kissed her kitten on the head and then nodded, giving a sleepy yawn.

“Come on, sweetheart. We’ll get you home.” Catwalker picked the little girl and her kitten up with ease, though she paused when Ladybug’s earrings beeped in warning of her detransformation.

“Oh, uh-” A brief look of panic crossed Ladybug’s face, but Catwalker just waved her hand.

“Go on,” She said easily. “I’ll get her home. Until next time?”

She held out her fist for a fistbump before she could remember not to, but thankfully Ladybug didn’t seem to find that suspicious, shyly returning the gesture.

“Until next time. Thank you, Catwalker,” Ladybug said, genuinely, and Catwalker smiled.

“Anything for you.”

[arts-and-drafts]

Learning To Fly (But I Ain't Got Wings) - Chapter Three

Chapter One / Chapter Two / AO3 LINK

CWs: Description of past violence/injury, depiction of a depressive episode, trauma-born selective mutism

-

TFC was down in his mines when his communicator buzzed, a message from Mumbo.

<MumboJumbo> Haven’t heard from Tubbo since we met <MumboJumbo> Did I offend him somehow?

TFC grimaced, sighing to himself before he leaned his pickaxe against the wall of the strip mine, to slowly type out a response.

<TinFoilChef> kids goin thru it <TinFoilChef> remember tommy?

TFC wasn’t actually present for a lot of Tommy’s progress and recovery—not on purpose, he just simply wasn’t sought out that much from their newest, youngest hermit, and he didn’t want to push it.

What he did know, however, was…rough, to put it mildly. And TFC now knew that Tubbo had come from the same situation, even if he didn’t know the details of either.

His communicator quickly buzzed with a response.

<MumboJumbo> oh dear <MumboJumbo> is it…bad?

TFC paused.

Tubbo had…well, he’d had a rough few days after he’d finally broken down in front of TFC, from sleep-deprivation and emotion alike. He’d slept for two days straight, and when he woke up again, he…

He just plain didn’t speak.

TFC didn’t really know what to do besides be there for him. He still talked to the kid, even if he didn’t answer—though he nodded or shook his head from where he sat on his bed, looking like all the life and fight had been sucked out of him.

It was a tough task to even get the kid to eat.

TFC was struggling. This felt out of his area, even if he could semi-relate to the kid more than most other hermits on the server.

<TinFoilChef> bad nuff yea

He got a reply almost instantly.

<MumboJumbo> Need help? <MumboJumbo> Don’t really know what I can do, but…

TFC felt a small smile cross his face as he read Mumbo’s offer. He could practically hear it in the other hermit’s nervous voice.

<TinFoilChef> pls <TinFoilChef> thx

Another, near instant reply.

<MumboJumbo> on my way

-

TFC managed to climb the ladder and get outside right as Mumbo ender-pearled close, nervously smoothing out his suit jacket and meeting TFC’s eyes with a smile that was more of a grimace.

“Thanks for takin’ the time,” TFC acknowledged once Mumbo was close, and the mustached hermit nodded.

“What exactly is going on with him?” Mumbo kept his voice hushed, which TFC appreciated. Probably wouldn’t help Tubbo’s funk if he heard the two talking about him like he was a patient or something.

“Hasn’t talked in a few days.” TFC relayed, leaning on his pickaxe and scratching his beard with his functional hand. Mumbo blinked and tilted his head a little, his expression worried.

“Hasn’t talked, like—they’re unresponsive?” He asked nervously. TFC shook his head.

“He can hear, he nods ‘n such. Just…no talkin’.” TFC explained. Mumbo uttered a nervous hum.

“...You know,” Mumbo suddenly stood up straighter, like he got an idea. “Why don’t we bring in Tommy? I—I know what you said about not letting people know Tubbo’s here, but he’s young too, and-”

TFC shook his head again, and Mumbo fell quiet.

“...Kid knows Tommy.” The old hermit vaguely said. He wasn’t about to air out Tubbo’s dirty laundry—if the kid wanted to share his past, that was his business, not TFC’s. “Doesn’t wanna see him yet.”

Mumbo blinked in surprise. “O-oh. Er…alright,” He stumbled, needlessly smoothing out his jacket again.

“Then…maybe…xB?” Mumbo offered, and TFC raised his eyebrows slightly. Mumbo quickly fumbled to explain.

“I-I’ve just heard from Cleo—xB sometimes, y’know…gets all…quiet, too.” Mumbo explained ungracefully, cringing at himself and fiddling with one of his suit cuffs. TFC blinked.

“...Hm. I didn’t know that,” He commented, looking back towards his humble home, thinking of the kid inside that he didn’t know how to help.

Honestly, at this point, he’d be willing to try anything.

“...I’ll run it by him.” TFC finally said. “Can’t help the kid if they don't wanna be helped.”

Mumbo looked even more stricken at that, but he only swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, looking to TFC’s home as well.

“Should I, um…be here too?” Mumbo finally asked. TFC ‘hmm’ed.

“...I’ll ask.” He replied, though he assumed he already knew what Tubbo’s answer would be. The kid had put Mumbo on a pedestal—the redstoner was probably the last Player Tubbo wanted to see in this moment of vulnerability.

Mumbo nodded, and then nodded again after a pause, as if reassuring himself. “Y—yeah, alright. Um, I’ll be in the area…?”

TFC nodded, breathing a small exhale and hefting his pickaxe up to hobble back to his home. He heard Mumbo take a few uncertain steps behind him, before he started walking off in a random direction. TFC trusted that he wouldn’t go far until he had a definitive answer on if he was needed or not.

TFC pushed his door open, predictably seeing Tubbo laying in his bed, on his back and staring at the ceiling like he wasn’t really seeing it at all. TFC hobbled over.

“...Tubbo,” TFC said, and Tubbo’s ear twitched, letting the old dwarf know that the kid was listening.

“There’s somebody on the server that I think can help ya more than I can,” TFC said, watching the kid’s face. Tubbo blinked, and his tired lapis eyes slid over to focus on the older hermit. TFC took that as an indication to keep going.

“His name’s xBCrafted, or just xB.” TFC explained, leaning on his pickaxe again. “He goes quiet like you are now. I’m hopin’ he can help ya…I dunno, maybe feel better.”

TFC felt utterly lost with all this, to tell the truth. He didn’t even know how he wanted xB to help Tubbo. All he knew was that he himself wasn’t cutting it.

“Would that be alright with you?” TFC finished, watching Tubbo’s face. The kid seemed…distant, like he was contemplating the old hermit’s suggestion.

“He’s good at keepin’ a secret, I can tell ya that much.” TFC added. He didn’t know xB that well, but he did know that trait of the other hermit. Tubbo exhaled a quiet breath.

Then the kid nodded, though it was with a very halfhearted shrug. TFC would take it.

-

xB strolled to TFC’s house by the time the sun was setting, and the old dwarf was there to meet him.

“Hey there!” xB greeted with a smile, and TFC nodded to him, offering a small smile in return. xB’s energy was infectious, even through the old hermit’s worry. “Heard you needed my help with something?”

TFC’s small smile fell, and he sighed as he ran his functional hand through his scraggly silver hair. “Yep…I need ya to keep a secret. Can I trust you?”

xB raised his brows, obviously intrigued. “Hm? Yeah, I can do that, what is it?”

TFC exhaled.

“...I got a kid in my house, and he’s not in a good state.” The old hermit said bluntly. “He…I’m really hoping you can help him, xB.”

xB blinked a few times. It almost made TFC laugh with how flabbergasted he looked.

“...I…man, how out of touch am I, huh?” xB finally chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t even see a message that we got a new member.”

TFC blew out a breath. “That’s because there wasn’t one.”

xB was again stunned into blinking dumbly.

“...Ah, I’m not following,” He finally said, laughing a little. TFC didn’t.

“The kid, ah…well, simplest way to say it, he hacked in.” TFC guessed. “But that’s not why I asked you here.”

xB’s jaw dropped, but he schooled his expression, and cleared his throat. “Uh…alright, what—what can I help with?”

TFC gave him the briefest rundown he could without spilling Tubbo’s business. xB’s expression shifted from surprised, to intrigued, to concerned, and then contemplative.

“...Hm.” xB finally murmured. “Can I…talk to them?”

TFC nodded, though he paused before turning to his house.

“Don’t…don’t treat him like a charity case,” He thought to add. xB blinked, and then nodded. “No, no, yeah…I won’t. I know.”

TFC was satisfied with that answer, so he started his way back to the humble abode, with xB following a step behind.

TFC opened his door, to see Tubbo slumped over, sitting on the edge of his bed. He raised his eyes when TFC entered the house, his ears slightly pulling back when he saw xB behind him.

“Hey, Tubbo.” TFC said, as he took a seat on his own bed. “This is xB.”

xB raised a hand, looking a little awkward. Tubbo met his eyes, his tired expression not shifting.

“Hey, bud, um…” xB sighed, and TFC watched as the other hermit’s expression changed to something more vulnerable, and he knelt to meet the kid’s eye-level. Tubbo blinked.

“...TFC didn’t tell me anything I don’t need to know.” xB said, his voice more genuine. “But I get the feeling you’ve been through something…pretty bad, right?”

Tubbo’s expression briefly hardened, before it fell into just exhaustion again, and he looked away. xB exhaled, shifting from kneeling to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“...I’ve been through something pretty bad too,” xB admitted, watching Tubbo with kind eyes. “My whole world ended.”

Tubbo looked back to xB, his brows raising the slightest bit. xB barely nodded.

“Nobody…nobody expected it.” The hermit explained. “Y’know, like—zombies, zombie Piglins—we were…” xB grimaced. “We were messing with something we shouldn’t have. Trying to reverse zombieism for good.”

xB lowered his eyes to his clasped hands. “We, ah…accidentally managed to do quite the opposite.”

TFC saw xB swallow, and he felt a twinge of sympathy in his old heart.

“...I’m only alive because I’m, ah…immune, turns out.” xB said quietly, and he pulled his big jacket hood away from his neck to expose a nasty-looking scar of a bite mark on the side of his neck, long-since healed over, but lasting enough to have warped the healed skin. Tubbo’s eyes widened.

“...I lost everything,” xB smiled, but it was bitter, and small, and sad. “And it was my fault. I did that to my world, to everybody in it.”

Tubbo’s lips parted, his lapis eyes sliding from xB’s scar to his face. xB held the kid’s gaze as he pulled his hood over his neck again.

“...With everybody gone, I just…there was nobody to talk to, so…I just kinda stopped talking altogether.” xB admitted quietly. “Here on Hermitcraft, I…I’m not alone anymore, but…sometimes my mind doesn’t quite remember that.”

Tubbo stared at xB, and TFC saw fragile sympathy on his face—no. It was empathy.

“...I guess I’m telling you all this to say I…I get it?” xB huffed a small laugh without humor, rubbing the back of his head. “I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but…whatever bad stuff happened to you, the stuff that doesn’t go away, I…I can relate.”

Tubbo stared at xB for a long time. And then his lapis gaze slid to TFC, to the old hermit’s surprise. More specifically, to TFC’s jacked-up arm and missing leg. TFC saw a muscle in Tubbo’s brow twitch, saw the gears turning in the kid’s head.

“...It feels like you… can’t talk, right?” xB brought Tubbo’s attention back with a gentle question. “Like you just don’t…have enough breath, enough force…”

Tubbo swallowed hard, visibly, and gave a small nod. xB smiled, small, but understanding.

“...Yeah. Me too.” The hermit softly said, tilting his head a little as he looked up at Tubbo from the floor. “Uh…I actually use-”

He shuffled around in his jacket, and Tubbo tensed, but relaxed when xB simply pulled out a worn book and quill. The hermit smiled a little awkwardly as he held it out to Tubbo.

“I just write in this. Er—any book and quill will do. You can keep this one, I have loads.” xB kindly said, and after a moment, Tubbo hesitantly accepted the item.

He slowly opened the worn cover and pages, and after looking at xB and TFC again, slowly wrote on a new blank page, turning it to be seen when he was done.

‘thanks’ 

-

Nobody had ever been that kind to him.

Whenever Tubbo had started—well, he called it ‘losing his voice’, even though that wasn’t quite right—it was usually either not addressed by others, or Tommy would speak for him, knowing Tubbo so well that he barely even needed to look at him before he just knew Tubbo was going to be quiet for a while and he was to pick up the slack, even though Tubbo never actually talked about it with him.

But nobody had…nobody had taken the time to work with him, to give him a way to be heard even when he couldn’t find it in himself to speak.

Even long after xB had left, Tubbo found himself staring down at that worn book. He’d looked through the slightly yellowed pages out of curiosity—saw random phrases like ‘sugarcane farm’ and ‘looks good!’, as well as what looked like a few unconnected resource lists. This was a book xB used often, and it made Tubbo feel a little bad to have accepted it, but he trusted that the other hermit would have stocked up on more like he’d said.

When his voice came back, it nearly made TFC jump out of his skin, which was slightly humorous and a bit selfishly satisfying after the old hermit had unknowingly startled Tubbo a few times.

“Sorry,” was Tubbo’s first word when he could speak again. He felt embarrassed after every time he lost his voice, even more so now that it’d happened in front of a sort-of stranger. 

TFC just shook his head, after he’d recovered from the slight spook.

“Don’t mention it.” The old hermit simply replied. “It happens.”

‘…It sure did,’ Tubbo silently agreed, thinking of xB again. He’d never met anyone else that lost their voice like he did. To be honest, he thought—well, he knew something was wrong with him, there was something wrong with everyone on the SMP in one way or another, but…there was nobody wrong like he was.

It was…really nice, to know he wasn’t alone in his wrongness. Even if it wasn’t on the server he’d come from, knowing that there were people hurt like him, like TFC and xB…in a strange way, it helped.

[arts-and-drafts]

Learning To Fly (But I Ain't Got Wings) - Chapter Two

Read Chapter One HERE / AO3 LINK

CWs: Self harm, obsessive thoughts, death and violence mentions, mentions of alcoholism/underage drinking

-

Despite TFC always being receptive to Tubbo’s questions or conversations, he still found himself feeling apprehensive to talk to the old hermit.

It wasn’t TFC’s penchant for bluntness—Tubbo actually appreciated that part of him—nor was it the old hermit’s rougher way of speaking and doing. It was just—something about him that made Tubbo just the slightest bit pensive.

He just couldn’t understand how TFC was so…chill.

The dwarf had come from 2b2t, the server that even the SMP Tubbo came from saw as the most hellish Player-made place in the realms. It was like the fight between Manberg and Pogtopia on crack—endless destruction, merciless Players, a lawless server of death and violence.

And TFC just…didn’t fit that at all. If Tubbo hadn’t seen the old hermit’s scars and lasting injuries for himself, he wouldn’t have believed him.

Sure, TFC was a bit rough around the edges, a bit crass at times, and laughed at things that would probably make a more well-adjusted Player like Mumbo balk. But he was nowhere near the level of messed up that Tubbo would expect from someone who’d survived and escaped 2b2t.

It made Tubbo…nervous. Even though he felt much more comfortable around TFC than he did when he first met the old hermit, he still found himself a bit wary, waiting for…

…Well, what was he waiting for? For TFC to snap and start killing everybody within render distance and blow Hermitcraft to hell down to bedrock? The thought was almost as absurd as TFC being from 2b2t in the first place, even to Tubbo’s paranoia.

Unless he was playing the longest game ever, TFC was slow and old and had what seemed like zero interest in conflict whatsoever. Tubbo would know—he’d watched the old hermit since he’d met him, watched how he hobbled around and conducted himself, both when knowing Tubbo was watching him and not.

He just seemed…so normal. A normal, old Player just existing in his little corner of the server, slowly carrying out menial tasks and doing whatever he felt like doing.

Tubbo faintly became aware of his real question the longer he ruminated on it. How was TFC so normal after what he’d been through?

And…would Tubbo ever get the chance to exist the way TFC did? Just…normal?

It felt like such an unachievable future. Tubbo was used to always watching his back, keeping a close eye on allies and enemies alike. Hell, the only people he even really trusted back home was Ranboo and Quackity, and…

And Tommy.

Tubbo dropped his head into his hands, breathing out shakily. It was another sleepless night under the stars in the safe confines of TFC’s humble little birch-wood home. Not even the old hermit’s rhythmic snoring could lull Tubbo to sleep right now.

No matter what Tubbo was thinking about, his mind always went back to Tommy. It had been that way even before he’d found out that his best friend was actually alive all this time.

Tubbo used to drown in regret, and try to drown instead in whiskey just like Schlatt had, though Ranboo had shut that down pretty quickly. Guilt used to follow Tubbo like a shadow, something dark and bottomless that would consume him if he slowed down to let it. It was why he’d thrown himself into New L’manburg so vehemently after Tommy’s exile, why he never let himself rest, why he attacked every problem that threatened his floundering country with way too much force.

He’d managed a testy truce with Dream, though he knew that could break at any moment, so he’d prepared and prepared and prepared for anything he could think of—obsidian bunkers under New L’manburg’s square, stocking up on diamond armor, mining for netherite every chance he got, brewing potions, digging tunnels, pouring over blueprints-

It was exhausting. But it kept Tubbo’s mind off his oppressive regret, kept him thinking of other things that could actually help, instead of letting his guilt and his grief swallow him whole and leave his country defenseless.

But he had that moment of weakness at MCC, when he saw Tommy’s face, that moment where all those feelings he’d been running from surged over him all at once and he just acted on his first impulse-

Tubbo pinched his arm, hard, and the pain shocked him enough to keep him grounded, just like the first time TFC pinched him. He breathed out unsteadily, clenching his hands into fists.

He needed to get Tommy, and get back to the SMP. That was the plan. That was what needed to happen.

But the thought of seeing Tommy again paralyzed him. He was so weak.

If Tommy scorned him and told him he never wanted to see him again, after Tubbo went through the grief of losing him and then the realization that his best friend had been alive this whole time, it would ruin him.

But he couldn’t just go back to the SMP, not without Tommy. He couldn’t.

Tubbo felt trapped. He was frozen whenever he thought of talking to Tommy, and yet he couldn’t leave without him. But there was nothing to prepare for here, no work or responsibility to throw himself into to be productive while he avoided his own feelings. It was too godsdamned peaceful.

Tubbo gritted his teeth, getting out of bed and opening his small chest by the foot of his bed to grab his pickaxe.

He left TFC snoring as he descended down the ladder to the strip mines, his eyes burning. Tubbo took a deep breath and held it, willing himself not to cry.

His chest hurt from indecision and the resulting guilt, and so he just ran to the end of the strip mine hall and picked a random direction to start digging.

Gods damn it. He was letting New L’manburg down by staying here, and he was letting Tommy down if he left. Tubbo was feeling more torn in two the longer he thought about it, and it was killing him.

He was supposed to be strong. He had to be strong. There were people relying on him, and here he was avoiding his feelings by fucking around with Mumbo Jumbo and having panic attacks in front of TFC and-

Tubbo’s pickaxe blade shattered in his hands, and it made him startle so much that he bashed his elbow against the stone wall of the strip mine, and he momentarily saw stars from the pain.

He clutched his elbow and staggered backwards, his eyes flooding with tears as he choked on a noise of pain.

Tubbo doubled over and just let himself yell.

“FUCK!”

His chest heaved, and his eyes swam with tears that were from both pain and anguish. He stayed doubled over like that, tense and shaking, until he was able to finally fucking think through the overwhelming feelings that were choking him from the inside.

What was he fucking doing here?! He had to make a godsdamned choice, he had people that needed him. He couldn’t just pretend everything was fine and enjoy this server like it was a vacation, not when his absence could lead to Dream trying to take over L’manburg again-

What kind of a president was he? He let his country down when his leadership mattered the most, just like every other president before him.

He was no better than Wilbur, and he was no better than Schlatt, no matter how hard he tried to be.

Tubbo pinched his arm hard, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as his nails drew blood. His thoughts were still swirling in his head like a cyclone, but he wasn’t drowning, he wouldn’t let himself drown. He wouldn’t.

He was a godsdamned president, and he needed to fucking act like it.

-

TFC had noticed Tubbo’s mannerisms…changed.

The kid was gone for nights at a time in the mines, only to emerge with stacks of ores and rare materials that he used to repay what little he’d accepted from TFC, and then the old hermit never saw where the rest of it went.

He was getting an inkling that the kid wasn’t sleeping, if the growing bags under Tubbo’s eyes and the increasing number of phantoms overhead when night fell were any indication.

TFC brought it up once, as a blunt observation, and Tubbo’s only response was building a roof on top of TFC’s humble abode to keep the phantoms out, one day when the old dwarf was down in the mines.

TFC frowned a bit and looked over the roof when he’d emerged from the mines, scratching his beard. He couldn’t talk to Tubbo about it, because the kid was already gone again before he could say anything.

And so, TFC stayed up that night, until Tubbo dragged himself up through the trapdoor, looking haggard and utterly wiped.

“Kid,” TFC said, and Tubbo almost fell back down the ladder.

“Shit, don’t do that-” Tubbo snapped, the fur of his haunches bristling as he got to his hooves.

“Sorry to scare ya, Tubbo.” TFC replied evenly. “No reason to bite my head off.”

Tubbo just grumbled and limped over to his side of the humble abode, dumping stacks of iron and gold into the furnaces he’d set down along the wall his bed was up against. TFC raised an eyebrow.

It’d been a very, very long time since he’d been a teenager, but he still remembered what it was like, somewhere in there.

“What are ya runnin’ away from, kid?” TFC asked bluntly, and Tubbo froze up where he stood. He whipped his head around, and TFC met his lapis eyes with an even and nonjudgemental look.

Tubbo didn’t speak, and so TFC waited. He was good at that.

“I’m not running from anything,” Tubbo finally uttered, obviously trying to snap again, but his voice was weak. TFC sighed.

“You’re not sleeping,” TFC listed on the fingers of his functional arm. “You’re workin’ yourself to your bones. You look like you’re yellin’ at yourself all the time in your head.”

Tubbo’s expression fell into shock and guilt, though he quickly schooled it into a glare. TFC ignored it.

“Ya don’t gotta tell me anything, Tubbo. I’m just worried about’cha.” The old hermit finished, leaning back where he sat on his bed.

Tubbo clenched his hands into fists. TFC saw they were shaking.

“…I’m fine. I’m just preparing.” Tubbo said tersely, his ears pinned back. TFC ‘hmm’ed.

He thought he knew what was going on.

“For what?” The old hermit asked, and Tubbo’s glare sharpened.

“For—to—“ Tubbo struggled with his words, his expression getting angrier. TFC waited, watching the kid.

“None of your business,” Tubbo finally grumbled. TFC huffed a small laugh. So angsty.

“There’s nothin’ to fight here, kid.” TFC said. Tubbo’s face dropped again, which told the old hermit he was right on the money.

“I know it feels like you’ve gotta run for your life at any minute,” TFC sighed, shifting to prop his peg-leg up to stretch what was left of his hamstring. “That this good thing ya got can’t last. That it’s all gonna go up in a big ball o’ fire any moment, so you gotta have somewhere safe to run to, right? Some thing to rely on, a weapon, or…I dunno.”

TFC shrugged. He wasn’t one for eloquence. “But it’s not, Tubbo. I promise ya, if you wanna believe the word of an old man like me.”

Tubbo was staring at him, a fragile look on his face. Gods, he looked so tired.

“...How do you know?” He finally asked, his voice shaking. TFC gave him a small, weary smile.

“‘Cuz I lived it, kid.” He just simply said. “My first few years on Hermitcraft. Was watchin’ over my shoulder for every little thing. Saw my own friends as enemies if they scared me.”

TFC uttered a tired, humorless chuckle. “...An’ I stayed up for nights at a time preppin’ for somethin’ that never happened,” He said, pointedly.

Tubbo looked about to cry.

“When did it stop?” The kid croaked, desperately, his voice fragile. TFC tilted his head a little, watching Tubbo’s face.

“...Took a while. Still happens sometimes, even.” TFC answered honestly. “It just…took a bit for my mind to get with the program that I’m safe here.”

Tubbo’s expression flickered, but it was gone before TFC could try to interpret it.

“...I can’t stay here,” Tubbo uttered, his voice rough. “I have to go back. They need me.” TFC felt slight surprise, but he nodded. “I get it.”

Tubbo blinked, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. TFC watched the kid squeeze his eyes shut, taking his best attempt at a steady breath.

“...But I can’t leave without Tommy,” Tubbo said, his voice thick and trembling. TFC raised his eyebrows.

“...You know Tommy?” He asked, mildly surprised. What were the chances that two scared kids would show up on Hermitcraft’s doorstep from the same place?

Tubbo sniffled, and TFC could tell the kid was barely holding himself together.

“He—I thought he was dead-” And Tubbo’s tears finally fell. TFC inhaled, his brows creasing as he watched the kid start to cry. Gods, he looked even younger when he wasn’t trying to be all tough.

TFC grunted as he got up off his bed, hobbling closer to Tubbo. The kid tensed, but he didn’t back away, though TFC still slowed in his gait.

“...You wanna talk to him?” TFC offered, his voice quieter. He hadn’t really spoken with Tommy longer than a few interactions, but he was sure the kid would head over if TFC asked.

Tubbo tensed more, his shoulders hunching as his face screwed up.

“I don’t know if I can,” Tubbo choked, and he buried his face in his hands. TFC hesitated, but he then slowly reached up to pat Tubbo on the back. He wasn’t good at this ‘comforting’ thing.

Tubbo shook with a silent sob, and TFC was startled when the kid leaned into him.

TFC’s old heart hurt when he realized Tubbo wasn’t making any noise at all when he cried, even though he was supposed to. Gods…

TFC wrapped his functional arm around Tubbo’s back, and the kid pressed against him, the smallest of sniffles leaving him. TFC stifled a sigh.

He just silently held Tubbo for a long time, every once in a while moving his hand back and forth across the kid’s back.

“C’mon, kiddo,” TFC murmured quietly, as softly as his rough old voice could manage with Tubbo in this fragile state, once the kid’s sniffling slowed down. “Let’s get you to bed.”

The kid didn’t fight him as TFC guided him to his bed, sinking into the mattress as soon as he laid down. TFC kept his hand on Tubbo’s back, and the kid didn’t shy away.

“Go on ‘n rest, kid.” TFC urged quietly. “I’ll be here when you wake up, promise.”

Tubbo shuddered with a sniffly inhale, his lapis eyes sliding shut as another round of tears slipped down his face. TFC watched as the poor kid sank into sleep as fast as a torch snuffed out, and he heard the circling phantoms outside screech and fly away.

TFC sighed, finally lifting his hand away from Tubbo’s back to run it through his own gray hair.

“Got my work cut out for me,” The old hermit mumbled to himself, hobbling back over to his own bed to wait out his vigil for the remainder of Tubbo’s rest.

He was a hermit of his word, after all.

[arts-and-drafts]

Learning To Fly (But I Ain't Got Wings) (Hermit!Tubbo)

(In which Tubbo tries to adjust. This is a continuation of 'Wherever You May Go', my hypothetical Hermit!Tubbo-verse!)

AO3 LINK

CWs: Depiction of a trigger, depicted panic attack, mentions of past violence

-

Tubbo was supposed to find Tommy.

He stared up at the stars from his plain bed TFC made for him, a lump in his throat. He was too wary to sleep, even though he heard TFC loudly snoring from his bed across the very humble house that didn’t even have a roof on it.

What was he still doing here?

He followed his compass until he ran out of bread, but that was when he saw the first signs of civilization, and-

Tubbo just panicked. He was ashamed to admit it. He panicked, and just dug deep into the earth where he was positive nobody would find him, until he could come up with armor, weapons, and a plan.

But of course he was found, even though he made sure to be careful-

Tubbo’s eyes flicked to TFC. The ‘hermit’(?) was snoring so loudly, practically dead to the world. He’d even taken off his wooden peg-leg before bed.

Tubbo could run, and even if TFC woke up, he wouldn’t be able to follow him in time.

…So why didn’t he?

Tubbo huffed, turning a glare back to the stars like they could give an answer.

Tubbo could’ve found Tommy by now. Why wasn’t he looking? Where was that urgency from MCC?

The lump in his throat grew. He knew the answer, even though he wanted to deny it.

He was scared.

He was scared of what Tommy would do, seeing him again after a year , after the last interaction they had was Tubbo exiling him from his own country-

- Gods, a country Tubbo left behind to fend for itself at the drop of a hat, after everything he gave up to defend it.

Tubbo pressed his palms to his eyes, his chest shuddering with the effort of trying not to cry.

What was he doing?

-

Tubbo was…different, in the way that Tommy was different.

It was quiet and peaceful in TFC’s little corner of the server, but every once in a while a hermit would fly over on their way to the shopping district, and every time, Tubbo would throw his arms up in front of his face and freeze up.

The first time it happened, TFC paused in his crafting to look Tubbo’s way, but the kid was still like a statue. TFC frowned, hobbling over and hesitantly reaching out. “…Kid?”

There was no response. Tubbo didn’t even blink, his chest heaving with fast breaths. TFC touched the kid’s shoulder, and Tubbo flew away from him, tripping over his feet and landing hard on the wooden floor.

“Woah! Hey, woah-“ TFC startled at such a quick response. “Tubbo, relax. You’re alright.”

He didn’t dare try to touch him again, even after Tubbo clutched his face where it was scarred, his eyes wide and distant and looking through TFC instead of at him.

“Tubbo,” He tried again, using his pickaxe as a crutch to lower himself to the ground to sit across from the trembling kid. “Hey, look at me.”

Tubbo’s wide lapis eyes flicked to TFC’s face, though his gaze was still distant and hazy. TFC grimaced.

He’d seen this before.

Iskall got like this sometimes whenever they were presented with PVP, though very rarely. TFC, even, would sometimes catch himself stilling at the sight of an end crystal idly bobbing in the Overworld whenever one of the other hermits were messing around with them, memories of 2b2t flashing before his eyes.

But… rockets? That was a new one. TFC trailed his eyes over the big scar on Tubbo’s face that he was clutching, violent and spread out like-

….Oh. Like a firework. 

Gods.

TFC took a breath, and reached over to pinch Tubbo’s arm, hard enough to make the kid jolt.

“Ow-“ Tubbo choked out, flinching away, but the fog cleared all at once from his scared eyes.

“Sorry.” TFC said, genuinely. “You back with me, kid?”

Tubbo blinked hard, a good few times. His chest was still heaving for breath, but his trembling lessened.

“…Y-yeah,” Tubbo mumbled, shakily. TFC nodded, an understanding look on his face.

“…Makes me come back,” TFC explained, miming a pinching motion again. “Falsie does it for me if I’m gone for a bit.”

Tubbo swallowed, surprise flashing in his lapis gaze.

“What…what does it?” Tubbo asked, his small voice vulnerable. TFC sighed and leaned back where he sat.

“End crystals.” He said. Tubbo blinked in confusion, though he didn’t voice it.

“…Does it stop?” The kid asked, his voice so small that it made TFC’s old heart hurt.

“…’Fraid not.” TFC quietly said. “Been…near twenty years since 2b2t, still…still gets me.”

Tubbo’s eyes widened.

“Y-you were—you were on 2b2t?” He asked, his voice hushed like it was a terrible taboo. TFC cracked a small smile at the kid’s expression.

“Yeah,” He nodded. Tubbo’s eyes were so wide, his expression both awed and near-horrified.

“You’re—you’re still alive?” Tubbo asked, blunt enough to make TFC laugh.

“Still kickin’,” TFC affirmed, shifting where he sat. “Short a leg an’ got a jacked-up arm, but still kickin’.”

Tubbo nodded, looking almost awestruck.

“Yeah…same…” The kid mumbled, a bit of an afterthought. TFC watched him, taking in the kid’s furrow of his brows, the twist of his lips as he thought. He looked…really young. As young as Tommy, even.

“It doesn’t go away,” Tubbo repeated quietly, pulling his haunches closer to his body. “Does it…get better, at least?” He asked, changing his earlier question. He sounded so weary, so much more tired than a kid his age should be.

TFC smiled a little, his eyes kind.

“…Yeah. It does.”

-

Tubbo seemed to act differently with TFC after their first little talk. Differently in general, really.

He gradually grew less wary around the old hermit, quicker than TFC expected, not that he minded. He talked more, though there were many times where the two of them just sat in a comfortable silence, doing their own separate things.

It was…nice, having someone around. TFC grew to like it more than he thought he would, loner as he was.

He learned pretty quickly after Tubbo got comfortable enough that the kid was whip smart. TFC came up from the mines one day to the sight of Tubbo knelt in the grass and fiddling with a redstone contraption outside the humble home, so complex it made the old hermit’s head spin.

“What’cha got here?” TFC asked, leaning on his pickaxe to give his peg-leg a rest.

Tubbo replied by flipping a lever, and the sound of many pistons firing in a pattern preceded the frame of machinations opening a door. He looked up at TFC, and the old hermit saw a look of pride on the kid’s scarred-up face.

“Locked-combination piston door,” Tubbo replied, getting to his feet—er, hooves?—and brushing grass blades from his haunches. TFC hummed, impressed even though he didn’t understand it.

“I remember Mumbo working out one o’ those.” He mused, and Tubbo whipped his head around.

“Mum— Mumbo Jumbo?” He asked, and TFC blinked up at him.

“Yeah, Mumbo Jumbo,” TFC said, amused. “You heard of him?”

“Heard-“ Tubbo reeled. “Of course I’ve heard of him! He’s one of the best redstoners ever!”

TFC smiled wider. “Yeah, he’s real talented…you wanna meet him? Talk a bunch a’ redstone gibberish?”

Tubbo stared at TFC like he’d just offered him an enchanted golden apple.

“Mumbo Jumbo’s on this server?” He asked, almost faint. TFC chuckled.

“Yeah, he’s a hermit. He was about your age when he joined.” He explained. Tubbo’s mouth fell open.

TFC watched the kid think it over, practically buzzing with excitement.

“If—if he doesn’t tell anybody I’m here,” Tubbo said quickly, “Can he—can I meet him? Can he keep a secret?”

TFC ‘hmm’ed, scratching his beard.

“Ya know, I got no clue.” TFC replied honestly. “But I’m sure he’s considerate enough to try.”

Tubbo again lapsed into silence, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked to his piston door again.

“…Okay.”

-

TFC was attempting to organize his mining chest when he heard an ender pearl be thrown, and Mumbo tripped into sight, nearly falling over. TFC snickered.

“Oi, you’re not any better,” Mumbo defended, his ears going red as he made his way over. “Why did you even ask me to use ender pearls?”

“Ah, yeah,” TFC groaned as he straightened, groaning as he cracked his back.

“Can ya keep a secret, Mumbo?” He asked seriously. Mumbo blinked down at him.

“Er— sure?” Mumbo replied, confused. TFC ‘hmm’ed and closed his chest.

“Got a new hermit on the server.” He said casually. Mumbo balked.

“Wha— what?!” He asked, his voice higher. “I didn’t see a join message—Xisuma didn’t even say anything!”

TFC shrugged. “They tricked the system somehow. They’re a smart kid.”

Mumbo tugged on his tie, nervously smoothing his suit jacket. “I—we should tell Xisuma if there’s a new hermit on the server-!”

“No.” TFC said simply. “He doesn’t want to be known yet. Can ya respect that?”

Mumbo floundered, looking towards TFC’s house.

“I—I guess?” He finally said, though he seemed very nervous. “Why doesn’t he want to be known? How did he even get here without us noticing?”

TFC just shrugged again. “I didn’t ask. They just want to stay hidden for now. But he wanted to meet you.”

“Me?” Mumbo asked, incredulous, his face going a bit pink. “W-why me?”

TFC motioned to the piston door in his lawn that Tubbo was fiddling with. “You think I built that?”

Mumbo blinked, as if he was noticing the redstone contraption right then.

“This—” He moved over to the piston door, circling it with wide eyes. “This is my design! I—oh, Void, I must have made this when I was a teenager!”

TFC huffed, amused that Mumbo was able to pick up on that so fast. The more redstone-aligned hermits on the server never seemed to run out of ways to surprise him.

“Yeah, the kid’s smart. And a big fan of yours.” TFC said, and Mumbo went pink again, clearing his throat and tugging on his collar.

“Ahem—well, I…suppose I wouldn’t be against meeting them…” Mumbo said hesitantly, his flatteredness thinly veiled. TFC chuckled.

“Tubbo, ya can come out now.” He easily said. The door to his humble home creaked open, and Tubbo poked his head out, wearing an iron helmet and chestplate from the short supplies he’d managed to gather while living with TFC.

Mumbo’s eyes widened, and he stepped more into view from behind the piston door.

“Oh—hi there!” Mumbo smiled nervously. “Tubbo, was it?”

Tubbo stepped out from behind the door fully, looking nothing less than starstruck.

“Uh—y-yeah, that’s me,” Tubbo stammered, taking a step closer. “Oh my gods—i-it’s such an honor to meet you, I-”

Mumbo went more pink, uttering a tittering laugh as he smoothed back his hair. “Wow! Um—I didn’t realize I had such a superfan!”

TFC watched in warm amusement as the two got close enough to awkwardly shake hands, Tubbo staring at his hand afterwards like it had been turned into diamonds. Mumbo mentioned Tubbo’s mastery of replicating his design for the piston door, and then the two were immediately off, chatting incomprehensible redstone terms and ideas at such a fast rate like they had been friends for ages.

TFC had never seen the kid so animated, and Tubbo even broke into bright smiles the longer he and Mumbo brainstormed. It made something inside TFC’s old heart warm.

Tubbo’d fit in just fine.

[arts-and-drafts]

NEW FIC GO READ IT PLS (MiCoVerse and its Fae AU belong to @mushroomminded!!)

[arts-and-drafts]

Someone New (Miraculous Ladybug)

Or; Adrien Agreste Does Drag (The Complete Novelization). I am just in love with Fem!Catwalker AUs I couldn't resist

AO3 LINK

-

Adrien groaned audibly and dropped his head in his hands after looking in the mirror to see Chat Noir for the thirteenth time.

"Claws in," he moped.

"This isn't working." Adrien complained, as soon as Plagg rematerialized. His kwami rolled his eyes and floated over to his desk to pick up another rancid slice of cheese.

"Just try harder, kid!" Plagg replied, oh-so-helpfully. "Really feel the role! Aren't you supposed to be an actor?"

"I'm a model," Adrien grumbled the correction, with no real bite behind it. Plagg made a flippant 'same-difference' gesture with his paw, his mouth full of camembert. He must've realized how genuinely upset Adrien was right now, because usually the kwami would talk with his mouth full, regardless of how much Adrien hated it.

Well, it was nice to know at least someone was taking his feelings into account.

Adrien shook the thought from his head. It was his own fault he had to be doing this, right now, trying to find a way to be someone he wasn't just to be Ladybug's partner again.

He couldn't pin his bitterness on her. He'd known how she felt for a long, long time.

’I'm sorry, mon chaton...there's someone else.’

Adrien locked eyes with his reflection. It looked sad.

"Alright-" Plagg announced, making a show of cracking his back and neck as he floated back over to Adrien. "Ready for round fourteen?" The kwami asked cheekily.

Adrien rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the mirror, scrutinizing the reflection looking back at him. What wasn't he getting? Something was missing, something he needed, but he couldn't begin to figure it out.

Feel the role.

But he was trying, and it wasn't working.

"Hey, what'd the mirror do to you?" Plagg asked, pulling Adrien from his thoughts. He turned to his kwami, hoping his despair was clear on his face.

"Aw, come on, Adrien, it's really not that hard!" Plagg said, flying around to Adrien's other side and turning his chin to look back at the mirror. "Maybe don't think of it like acting. Think of it like...wearing the scent of a new cheese!"

Adrien couldn't help but scoff, a traitorous smile quirking at the corners of his lips. Plagg continued on, undeterred.

"You're not trying to say you hate cheese." Plagg said. "You're just expressing another cheese that you like!"

Adrien blinked.

Somehow, this time, Plagg's cheese metaphor made sense to him.

"I'm still me." Adrien said slowly. "I just...need to be a different part of me."

Plagg made a delighted noise. "Finally! I get through to you! About time you started listening to my genius."

That got Adrien to actually laugh, and he turned to his kwami.

"Alright. Let's try again."

Plagg nodded, and floated up to eye level, looking at Adrien with confidence. Confidence in him. Confident that Adrien could do this.

How could Adrien have ever thought that giving him up was the right thing to do?

"I'm...sorry, by the way." Adrien admitted, looking his kwami in the eyes. "I didn't consider how backing out of being Chat Noir would make you feel."

"Pshh." Plagg waved his paw in the air fervently, like he was swatting a bug. "Enough of that mushy stuff. I have my favorite kitten back, and that's all that matters."

Adrien smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.

"Plagg, claws out!"

-

Adrien couldn't sleep.

He'd tried and failed to transform into someone new over and over after his and Plagg's "heart-to-heart", despite the advice his kwami gave him. He just couldn't see himself being anything other than what he was. Chat Noir.

Sometimes, being Chat Noir felt even more right than being Adrien Agreste.

Most times.

Adrien groaned and pressed his pillow over his face.

Maybe it would be better to just go back to Ladybug as himself. Apologize, and ask to be let back on her team. On their team.

Jealousy, hot and guilty, clenched in his gut at the thought. He'd do anything for his lady and her love, but he wasn't willing to resort to crawling back to her like a street cat, desperate for a home.

He was better than that. Or at the very least, he was more stubborn than that.

"What's eatin' ya, kid?" Plagg asked, curled up on his own little section of Adrien's pillow, his eyes softly glowing green in the dark. Adrien lifted the pillow from his face to cut a glare at his kwami.

"Geez, I was just asking." Plagg replied, his brow furrowing. "Are you really that caught up on the transformation thing?"

"Of course I am, Plagg!" Adrien cried, throwing his arms up hopelessly. "This is the only way I can be with my lady again and I can't get it right!"

Plagg made a gagging sound, which did not help Adrien's mood.

"I'll never understand how mortals are obsessed with anything other than cheese." Plagg sighed wearily, and then floated upwards off the pillow. "Okay, kid, let's go."

"Go where?" Adrien asked, his bad mood faltering a bit.

Plagg zipped over to the window. "To somewhere that will really help you transform. In any way you want."

Adrien squinted suspiciously, but sat up in bed all the same. "...What place can do that?”

-

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Adrien seethed, mortified, his face flushed and hot as he stared up at the neon sign that Plagg had led him to.

"What?" Plagg said, smugness in his tone as he poked his head out of Adrien's coat pocket. "There's no better place in Paris to find such masters of natural transformation. And you have superpowers at your disposal, too!"

"No better place than a drag bar?!" Adrien asked, his voice shrill as it could get with him still whispering. Plagg narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you dare talk bad about drag bars! One of my past holders got his start in one, you know!" Plagg reprimanded, sounding unusually serious. Adrien stammered.

"I don't—Plagg, I don't care that it's a drag bar!" Adrien tried to say. "I just—what if anyone sees Adrien Agreste lurking around a place like this! My father would-"

"Calm down, Adrien, sweet brie!" Plagg rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking Adrien Agreste to go in there."

Adrien went quiet as the wheels turned in his head.

"Wh—Chat Noir?!" Adrien balked. Plagg stared at him deadpan, like he was stupid. "No, obviously I mean Hawkmoth. Of course Chat Noir!"

"That's not even legal! I'm not eighteen yet!" Adrien tried to argue, though he was pretty certain nobody would question Chat Noir's age. Plagg scoffed.

"Your human lives are so short." Plagg complained. "Why would you wait for anything when every moment is so important? I'll never understand it."

"Claws out." Adrien commanded instead of answering, closing his eyes as the magic washed over him. He didn't want to risk another second being here as Adrien Agreste, even with his coat hood up.

No sooner did he open his eyes as Chat Noir, his paranoia was rewarded.

"Hey, kid, you okay?"

And Adrien turned to see the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

She was tall, with a wig that added two feet to her height, clad in a flattering hot pink skin-tight dress. What looked like a coat entirely made of baby pink feathers was draped over her, to combat the cold.

The most striking thing was her face. She was wearing lots of makeup, not just to look pretty but to also stand out, every stroke of eyeliner and every brush of lipstick and every pad of foundation expertly placed to accent her handsome features in all the boldest ways. 

A drag queen. Adrien had never met one before.

Is this what being starstruck was like?

"Not the well-mannered type, are we?" The queen teased, and Adrien quickly snapped his mouth shut, his face going scarlet. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Easy, honey. I'm only kidding." The queen stood back to her full height from where she bent slightly to address him, and Adrien had to crane his neck to look her in the eye.

"What's Chat Noir doing around here?" The queen asked, and Adrien knew she wasn't being accusatory, but his heart rate picked up anyway.

"I—a friend told me—" Adrien stammered. "I-"

"You're here for the show?" The queen guided his question gently, and Adrien tried to get a hold of himself.

"Um...I-I don't know." He said, deciding to be honest. "I wanted to see how your...makeup is done?"

Blessedly, the queen's eyes lit up.

"Oh, of course!" She said, smiling. "We love teaching the next generation. It's not often we meet a lot of younger ones interested nowadays."

Oh. She thought Adrien meant he wanted to see the makeup to do it himself.

Though...isn't that why Plagg brought him here?

"It's just—really impressive," Adrien tried to pull off his regular superhero charm, and it wasn't a lie. He'd been around makeup his whole life, people all around him powdering and painting him to make sure he was the epitome of perfect before a shoot.

But this, this was...something truly incredible. This queen wasn't using makeup to cover her imperfections. She was using it as an identity, as much of a mask as his was when he transformed into Chat Noir. 

Something clicked in his head all at once.

"That's sweet of you, honey." The queen brought him back to reality with a smile. "I'd love to tell you how it's done, but I go on in five." She said, turning away from him to shuffle through her bright pink clutch she procured from her feather coat.

"But," she continued, and held out a card to him with a smile. "I have a backstage VIP class on how I apply my look, and a behind-the-scenes tour. Just give my manager a call."

Adrien took the card, glancing a look at it. In swirling purple letters were the words 'FELICITY VALENTINE', followed by a phone number.

"Felicity?" Adrien looked up, and the queen flipped her hair. "The one and only," she confirmed with a wink.

"And, hey." She said, her voice turning gentle. "Take it at your own pace, okay? No pressure."

"Thank you," Adrien replied, startled by her sudden change.

Felicity Valentine smiled at him, waved her acrylic-nail accessorized fingers, and with a swish of her feather coat, disappeared into the bar, her only goodbye being a call over her shoulder. "Ciao, whiskers!"

Leaving Adrien dumbly standing with a business card in hand, staring at the doors of the building.

He oddly felt that her words of encouragement weren't just talking about giving her a call.

-

Back in his bedroom, Adrien laid flat on his back on his couch and stared at the ceiling. It was well past 2:00 AM now, but he wasn't tired in the slightest.

A weird buzzing had overcome his chest after he got home. Something like giddiness, but much more tinged with nervousness instead of excitement.

He couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

Something about the way Felicity looked at him. Like...she knew something. Something that he didn't know himself.

Her words continued to rotate in Adrien’s mind until they didn’t sound like words anymore. 

’Take it at your own pace. No pressure.’

He thought about how Plagg compared drag to being a mask, a new identity.

Adrien sharply sat up, fueled with new determination. He quickly went to the mirror and flicked on the overhead light, his kwami uttering a sleepy mumble.

“Kid…? Wha’ are you doin’?” Plagg yawned, exposing his tiny needle-like teeth.

“I’m gonna try again.” Adrien replied, staring his reflection in the eyes.

“Can’t it wait til’ the morning?” Plagg grumped, but floated up from his little pillow despite his complaining.

“Claws out,” Adrien replied, and Plagg’s sleepy yelp was lost in the transformation.

Adrien opened his eyes, and saw-

Someone new.

He gasped, raising a hand to his masked face. His clawed gloves had been replaced with fingerless leather, the tips of his fingers now adorned with neon green acrylic nails sharp as claws. His mask was much more angular and lined in bright green, much more akin to a masquerade mask. His cat-like eyes were complimented by long, neon green eyelashes in the corners of his eyelids. His cheekbones now looked sharp as knives, the magic of the transformation having worked actual magic with his makeup and foundation.

His lips were painted black, though outlined with that same striking green. His blond hair still kept that short and shaggy look from Chat Noir’s persona, but it looked like a blown out perm that was now longer in the back, of course all pulled together by signature cat ears.

His suit was still the same skintight leather-like material, but it was now complemented by green line patterns starting at his wrists and ankles and climbing up to his knees and elbows, mimicking a fishnet texture. His boots had become platform heels with green soles, seamlessly blending with his suit. His belt-tail was now that same neon green, which hugged his waist flatteringly and pulled the eye to his figure.

Adrien uttered an awed laugh, turning to look at his—her—reflection over her shoulder and striking a pose.

“Me-ow.”

-

Adrien set off the next morning, after snatching a few hours of sleep that finally came after taking a liberal amount of photos in the mirror of the new and improved Chat Noir.

No, wait, he couldn’t be Chat Noir anymore. What would this—well, drag persona of himself be called?

Adrien chewed on the question as the “new” Black Cat Miraculous holder deftly leapt over rooftops in search of her lady.

She spotted (ha) red and black while flying over the Louvre, and redirected her course to land in front of Ladybug.

Ladybug gasped, stepping back with wide eyes. “O-oh, Plagg did it…”

Adrien fought to not smile. His plan worked perfectly, if he could even fool his beloved lady into thinking he was someone else.

Instead, she crossed one platform-heeled foot behind the other and curtsied with an imaginary skirt, her eyes on Ladybug.

“Ladybug,” She said, emulating Felicity Valentine’s confidence. “Your new Black Cat is here, upon request,” She winked, and Ladybug went as red as her suit.

“I-I can that see—I-I mean! I can see that,” Ladybug stammered, her eyes wide. “What—what should I call you?”

Adrien paused, thinking about it. Thinking about Felicity, how she effortlessly strutted like she owned every step, out to perform for another night.

“Catwalker,” She decided, unable to resist.

[arts-and-drafts]

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger (Created Monsters AU)

Summary: Tommy dies, and then wakes up changed. (I'm going to be so real this is just crack treated extremely seriously and for WHAT) / AO3 LINK

CWs: Body horror, medical trauma, death/death mentions, kidnapping

-

TommyInnit died on Saturday, June 20th, at 9:34 PM.

Legally, that is.

One moment he was bleeding out in an alleyway, dying an unremarkable death after he snarked off to the wrong dickhead who was trying to take his wallet.

The next, he was waking up to harsh fluorescent lights, aching in every part of his body, and unmistakably alive. 

A curly head of brown hair came into his vision, and as Tommy's eyes focused, he saw a wide smile on their face. 

"Hello! How are you feeling?" The man asked, unusually cheerful given...well, everything. 

Tommy groaned in response. The man smiled wider.

"Ah, yes, that's to be expected." The man laughed. "You almost didn't make it!"

Tommy's memory came back to him, and he shot up into a sitting position. Immediately, his vision went black, and the only thing keeping him from falling backwards was the man's hands on his back and arm. They were gloved, and ice cold.

Tommy blinked a few times until his vision returned, hissing in pain as his stab wound flared in agony at his movement.

"How—how am I–?" Tommy tried, breathing raggedly. The man steadied his hand on the back of Tommy's neck. "Catch your breath! We have lots to talk about."

Tommy frowned, but did as the man said, trying to even out his breathing and bear through the pain of his injury. Steadily, his other senses came into focus, and he started taking note of his surroundings.

He was laying on a cold metal table, in a hospital gown, and looked right at home amongst what seemed to be an operation room, from what Tommy had seen on TV. Various instruments for recording his heart rate and other statistics he couldn't decipher were hooked up to his arms, beeping a bit rapidly along with his heartbeat.

Other than the man, Tommy was alone. There were no nurses, no doctors, nobody.

The pain was beginning to be unbearable now, and Tommy desperately sucked in a breath with a choked whimper. The man tutted sympathetically at his side.

"I'll turn up the morphine for you, lad." The man said, and eased Tommy back down into a lying position before meddling with the IV bag at his left. "We'll talk in a bit, alright?"

Tommy didn't get to respond before chemical relief swept over him, and it was so welcome that his mind faded into nothing soon after.

---

The second time he woke up, he was in a different room.

Instead of a metal table, he laid in a bed, with a thin blanket over him and a squashed old pillow under his head. An IV drip was still inserted in his hand, the tube leading to a bag hung on a stand on wheels by the bed.

His thoughts were much clearer now, and the pain was more manageable, though he still moved gingerly into a sitting position to not anger his wound again.

The mattress was thin and springy underneath him, something he regarded with a bit of a wince, but he supposed beggars couldn't be choosers.

Wait.

The gravity of the situation flooded back to him, and Tommy snapped his head up to look around the room. It was small, with the only furniture being a rickety bedside table and chair, Tommy's IV stand, and a ratty rug beside the door.

The room had no windows, and a barely-there dampness clung to every breath he took. Tommy vaguely related the smell to a basement or cellar. Certainly not a hospital.

His teeth felt wrong in his mouth.

The sound of footsteps made him flinch, and he gritted out a noise of pain through his teeth as his stomach screamed in pain. His IV-less hand moved to the wound on instinct, and Tommy felt bandages wrapped around his abdomen under his hospital gown.

The door opened to reveal the same brown-haired man from before, balancing a laundry basket on his hip. He smiled brightly when he saw Tommy.

"Oh, wonderful! You're awake!" The man exclaimed, setting down the basket near the door. "You just can't be kept down, huh?"

"Where am I?" Tommy asked, cutting through pleasantries. The man's smile flickered for a split second.

"This is my office!" The man said with pride, gesturing broadly. "Well, this is the bedroom, but this whole place is where I do my work."

"The name is Doctor Malpractice, by the way!" The man breezed right along, not waiting for Tommy's response. "What can I call you?"

"...Tommy." Tommy answered, warily. Something about this whole thing rubbed him the wrong way.

"Wait, you said your name is Malpractice?" Tommy realized, furrowing his brows. The doctor laughed easily.

"Yes, quite ironic, I know." He said, bending to rifle through the laundry basket. "Don't you worry, I only do honest work here, contrary to the name."

The doctor straightened and tossed Tommy what he recognized to be his clothes into his lap.

"I took it upon myself to wash up your clothes while you were out." Doctor Malpractice mentioned. "Go ahead and get changed!" The doctor encouraged. "Take as much time as you need, you're still healing."

"...Thanks." Tommy said, hesitantly. "Um...where am I?" He asked. "I don't...I don't remember—"

"Clothes first!" The doctor interrupted cheerfully, picking up the laundry basket. "We'll talk once you're changed. Just come meet me outside when you're done." He said, balancing the basket on his hip to open the door again.

Tommy strained his neck to see outside of the door, but the doctor quickly closed it behind him. The only thing Tommy could pick up on was old, yellowed wallpaper, and a sickly orange light that reminded him of his grandparent's unused basement.

Tommy took a moment to orient himself, breathing in through his nose.

Something was still screaming at him that this wasn't right, but Tommy didn't know enough to have a concrete reason to back up the feeling.

He decided to shelf it for now, and picked up his shirt.

Incredibly, it was entirely free of blood. If Tommy hadn't been intimately aware that he was bleeding out earlier, he would believe that the fabric had never been stained.

The only thing pertaining to the incident was a thin but noticeable rip in the shirt's midsection, where the mugger had stabbed him.

Tommy shuddered involuntarily, hissing through his teeth when his wound flared up at the action. 

Unlike before, though, the pain faded with just a few breaths. Tommy blinked, then remembered the IV stand he was still hooked up to. It must have been feeding painkillers into his system.

Tommy decided to stop thinking and carefully reached behind him to untie the hospital gown.

----

Tommy had no way of telling the time down here, but he figured it took at least half an hour to wrangle himself into his clothes. By the end of it he was exhausted, and it frustrated him that such a simple task had already siphoned his energy.

Despite that, Tommy dug deep and headed towards the door, using his portable IV stand to hold some of his weight as he wheeled it along with him.

Tommy turned the old brass doorknob, and was startled by how quickly the musty basement smell was replaced by chemical cleanliness as soon as he pushed the door open.

He'd entered into a hallway, lit with that same sickly light he'd briefly seen before, the source being a pathetic little lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

Fluorescent artificial light glowed from the end of the hall, where the old dark wood floor abruptly transitioned to pristine white linoleum like what Tommy saw in the operating room.

Curious and hesitant, Tommy pushed forward, the quiet sound of the IV stand wheels moving over the floorboards seeming so much louder in the silence.

The room the hallway led to was almost exactly like a hospital ICU, with the exception of a few notable things. Number one being the absence of windows.

Tommy expected no windows in the operating room he woke up in, but in patient dockings? It was eerie. Tommy didn't usually spare a thought to windows until there was an absence of them. 

The second thing Tommy noticed was the lack of hospital beds. The room was large enough to fit several beds on each wall, but there were only three, and they were unkempt and unmade, as if recently in use.

The third odd thing was the lack of machinery and doctors, nurses or anyone else, even patients. It was empty except for Tommy. There was no hustle and bustle like one would expect from a hospital, and the quiet put him on edge.

"Doctor Malpractice?" Tommy called, his voice filling the emptiness of the room only slightly, but it comforted him.

"Tommy?" The doctor's voice called, and a few seconds later the man's head poked into the room from yet another door to the right.

"Ah, wonderful! You're up!" Doctor Malpractice praised with a smile, and opened the door fully. "Come meet the others! I was just about to start lunch."

"Others?" Tommy felt himself immediately relax. Maybe this wasn't a weird abandoned hospital after all.

"My other patients, of course." Doctor Malpractice said fondly, and gestured for Tommy to follow him back through the door.

Tommy was immediately greeted by two other men sitting at what looked like an old folding table, playing cards. They looked up as he entered, and twin looks of shock and alarm crossed their faces.

"A kid?!" The man with pale hair immediately redirected to Doctor Malpractice, fury in his eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"Now, now, Phil—" Doctor Malpractice said, stepping backwards, and Tommy barely managed to stumble out of the way as the man—Phil—suddenly got up from the table and lunged for the doctor.

Pain lanced from Tommy's knife wound like a lightning strike at his sudden movement, and he saw spots in his eyes as he choked a gasp of pain. 

Doctor Malpractice yelped as Phil got near him, and reached into his coat as he jumped away from the pale-haired man. Tommy watched with growing terror as Phil suddenly hit the floor with a wheeze, what looked like smoke pouring from his mouth.

"Goodness, you should know better by now!" Doctor Malpractice said, sounding shaken as he stared down at Phil's trembling form with a strange apathy in his eyes for the man's condition.

"Wh-what's happening to him?" Tommy managed to say, his free hand clutching his wound. Doctor Malpractice turned to him, and Tommy saw his coldness switch to concern.

"Oh dear, you didn't open your stitches, did you?" The doctor worried, pulling Tommy's shirt up to inspect his bandages like it was a normal thing to do. 

"H-hey!" Tommy said, weakly smacking at the doctor's hands. "Personal space, man, what the fuck?!"

"Doc!" A new voice said with urgency, and Tommy and the doctor turned in unison to see the other man kneeled by Phil's convulsing body with a hand on his back.

"Oh, whoops!" The doctor said, and reached into his coat again. Phil suddenly gasped like he'd never breathed before, and descended into choking coughs, smoke jerkily leaving his mouth. The other man helped him sit up, and Phil leaned in to his support, his chest heaving.

Tommy watched the scene in wide-eyed horror, and wrenched away from the doctor inspecting his wound. "What the fuck is going on here?!"

Doctor Malpractice blinked at him, as if surprised by his outburst.

“Oh, Phil had a little spell of disobedience, nothing to worry about.” Doctor Malpractice said flippantly, gesturing to the man still heaving for breath. “See? He’s fine!”

“I meant the fucking smoke, you twisted dickhead!” Tommy didn’t back down.

“Oh! That was his core,” Doctor Malpractice said, like it explained everything. Tommy stared.

“Bud-“ The other man spoke up, sympathetic green eyes behind big square frames. “You’re not gonna get a super good explanation from the Doc, he’s a little…”

“A little great at my job, obviously!” Doctor Malpractice laughed and put his hands on his hips proudly. Tommy’s skin was starting to crawl, and he took another laborious step back.

“Somebody fuckin’ tell me what’s going on!” Tommy demanded, his voice as shaky as his legs underneath him.

“We’re—changed,” The man in glasses quickly said, as Phil finally seemed to catch his breath, his head lowered. Tommy faltered in his anger, something in him deeply unnerved by those two simple words.

“What do you mean, changed?” Tommy demanded, trying to sound forceful. It came out more scared than authoritative.

“Oh! Doy,” Doctor Malpractice lightly bopped his forehead with his palm. “I’ve completely forgotten to explain, I was so focused on making sure you wouldn’t die on me!”

He moved closer again, grasping Tommy’s jaw in a gentle but unyielding grip to pry his mouth open, Tommy’s weak struggles completely ineffective against him.

The doctor pressed his thumb to the top of Tommy’s mouth, and Tommy felt the overwhelmingly sickening feeling of his teeth shifting. Phil and the man in glasses sucked in sharp gasps, and Tommy tried yet again to struggle free, his heart rate spiking. What were they gasping at?!

“Et voila!” The doctor announced proudly, stepping back and letting Tommy go, standing out of the way so the other two men could look upon Tommy with uninterrupted, horrified gazes.

Tommy touched his teeth, his upper jaw feeling sore and achy. His eyes widened in shock and fear as his fingers touched teeth that were much, much longer than they should have been, sharp and thin, unfolded from the palate of the top of his mouth like mandibles.

“What did you do-?” Tommy choked out, his tongue moving against his changed mouth and teeth in a way that repulsed him as he tried to speak.

Doctor Malpractice grinned widely, his eyes shining with the utmost pride in the face of Tommy’s horror. “I made you better!”